An Enduring Friendship
by Levana Fay
Summary: Ziva woke up in a dirty room in Somalia; to torture and suffering she had never known before. She believes she will die there, alone, but a vision of a friend helps her to cope. Jibbs, Tiva and Jenny/Ziva friendship.
1. Chapter 1

An Enduring Friendship

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Rating: T

Summary: Ziva woke up in a dirty room in Somalia; to torture and suffering she had never known before. She believes she will die there, alone, but a vision of a friend helps her to cope. Jibbs, Tiva and Jenny/Ziva friendship.

A.N.: I put this in the Jenny-Jethro listing because that is where I'm most comfortable writing, so there will be more of that than any other relationship in this story.

A.N.2: I haven't seen anything past season 5 and I don't intend to, but I heard from my boyfriend's sister that Ziva was captured and tortured, and this story took form. Severe JD denial was a contributor too… lol. It may not sound much like what happened to Ziva in the episode, but my excuse is that it's very AU. This is for Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, who hoped something else would come along to get her hooked, well I finally wrote something and I hope this fits the bill, lol!

* * *

A sharp pain in the abdomen woke Ziva from her fitful sleep, her senses coming alive and she gradually became aware she was freezing. She could feel cold, hard ground beneath her that sapped away any heat she may have generated, leaving her permanently chilled. Her head and abdomen throbbed and she realised she must have just been kicked awake, but by who? She opened her eyes slowly and looked around, but the only source of light was coming in from a window, which spilled all of its twilight onto her, leaving the rest of the room in complete darkness. She was out in the open and vulnerable, the light prevented her eyes from seeing past the rectangle of light she was laying in. She had no idea where the walls were, if there was a door near her or even if she was alone.

She tried to get up, but her hands wouldn't pull apart and she flopped uselessly. Confused about what was happening and annoyed that her mind seemed to be so slow for some reason, she attempted to pull her hands apart, but couldn't and after a moment of focus, she realised why. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back with what felt like rope, but it was too unyielding to be so. She felt a momentary lift in her spirits when she realised it wasn't rope that bound her, it was metal, her wrists were just so raw and bloodied from rubbing, that the dried flecks gave the cuffs a rough feel, which in turn made her skin even worse. She grimaced as the dried blood opened the cuts on her skin, but she was undaunted.

She could pick her way out of handcuffs, all she needed was something to use as a pick. Where was she, though? Ziva tried to remember what mission she was on, but couldn't. This didn't seem like a situation Gibbs or Tony would let her get in to, they would have come for her, wouldn't they? So why were they nowhere to be seen? Had they forgotten her? Didn't they know where to find her? The room was unfamiliar, though there was something about it, something niggling at the back of her mind, like she was missing an obvious fact. What was happening to her, and most importantly, why was it happening?

She heard a scuffling near her and froze, raising her head in an attempt to scan the darkness around her for the source of the noise, only to see a foot step into the light. She looked up at the figure that the foot belonged to but a fist connect with her cheek, forcing her head to impact the floor as her weak muscles, which were unprepared for the assault, gave way. A sudden kick to the abdomen forced the air from her lungs, winding her and making little black spots appear in her vision, not that she could see much. Dazed from the hard jolts and lack of oxygen she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to become as still as possible in the hopes that whoever was hurting her would leave, but her ragged gasps as she tried to draw air in to her lungs just seemed to encourage her attackers.

Her questions reverberated in her mind, but the attack effectively stopped her mind from working in a logical way, all she could focus on was the pain. Another fist hit her face, once again sending her head into the floor, followed quickly by someone stamping on her leg. She cried out in agony as the bone fractured and she curled up as far as she could, pulling her legs up to her chest in an attempt to protect them. They shouted something to her in Arabic, and although she could understand them, she couldn't really hear them. The blows to her head made concentrating on anything an impossible task, but one thing did filter in. They were interrogating her; she was being tortured for information, rather amateurishly. Another blow to the head rendered her unconscious.

* * *

When Ziva felt herself regaining consciousness a second time, she regulated her breathing to make it seem like she was still unconscious. This time she would try to regain her faculties before letting her captors know she was awake. Her whole body was throbbing in pain, her face had swollen up from the repeated punches and her leg felt like it was on fire where it was fractured. The thing that concerned her most though was the fact her abdomen felt awful, it was tender and if she moved it caused her considerable pain, but it was hard too. She must have internal bleeding, not bad enough to kill her over the next few hours, but enough to kill her if she didn't go to a hospital soon. She doubted her captors would do anything for her health except make it worse, though, so she had to escape somehow.

Who were they though? She racked her brain for the answer and a wave of nausea crashed over her when she found it. She was no longer with NCIS; she had stayed in Israel and had been sent to infiltrate a terrorist camp in Somalia. That was where she was, and she had no back up. Tony and Gibbs wouldn't be coming to her rescue because they were not involved in her mission, and the things that had been said between them the last time she had seen them meant they would not care for her anyway. She was alone, completely alone, and Mossad would not come to her rescue either.

Her father had sent her here knowing she would in all probability be caught, and he hadn't provided any protection, back up or contingency plans for her. If she was lost, she was lost and he wouldn't do a thing about it. A strange way to behave, for a father who has just gotten his daughter back from the four year mission he had sent her on. He should have welcomed her, apologised for the terrible things he had made her do and then sent her home until she was ready to continue work, but no, not Director Eli David. He sent her on a suicide mission instead.

Ari had told her that their father was a heartless, cruel, self serving monster, who would kill his own flesh and blood to solidify his position of power, but she hadn't believed him, and even when her father had ordered her to kill Ari, she had rationalised it away. Now she couldn't ignore his actions. Jenny's death had opened Ziva's eyes to the reality that the things in her life she had thought were permanent, things that she would never lose, could all be taken away from her and there was nothing she could do about it. After losing so much, her priorities had begun to reorder themselves. There were people she wanted to protect, friends she needed to care for and a man she needed to love.

Ziva opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings, the daylight showing her more than she had seen previously. The room was approximately eight foot by ten foot and there was only one window and one door. The door had a grille in it that her captors would presumably use to look in at her, and there was no furniture at all. She felt her heart sink as she saw nothing in the room that could be used to pick her way out of her cuffs and then she tensed, hearing heavy breathing. The grille slid shut and Ziva felt a moment of panic, they had been watching her look around, they knew she had no hope of escape.

She instinctively curled up into a ball as the door swung open and two men entered, closing the door behind them. One of them prodded her with a foot and she swung her uninjured leg out, catching his knee and sending him sprawling on the ground. The other man began to beat her, shouting at her in Arabic, swearing at her and calling her awful names, but she didn't let it get to her. She had to survive this, she would escape and she would kill them all for the pain they were inflicting on her. After several more blows to the head she lost consciousness once more.

* * *

The men looked at the woman unconscious on the floor in disgust and not a little frustration. They had been trying to crack her for over a week, but she never uttered a word, only screamed occasionally when they did something exceptionally painful like when they had stamped on her leg and broken her nose. They were getting nowhere with her and quite frankly they now thought she cost more effort to interrogate than the value of any information she had. Arden and Kevil, the torturers were getting tired and their fists were hurting.

"Let's put her with the others. Maybe being cared for will help to loosen her tongue ready for next time." Kevil, said, bending down and grabbing one of her legs. Arden agreed and grabbed the other leg and together they dragged her from the room and down the corridor to the women's room. They kept the women together in this place, for when some of them became pregnant; the other women would take care of them so they need not be bothered. They looked through the grille and watched the women that were still able to stand ready themselves to attack them once they entered.

"Stand back and we will feed you today." Arden shouted though. The women reluctantly sat back down, the promise of food hitting them where it hurt in their half starved state. They unlocked the door and carefully dragged the unconscious woman in, dumping her in the centre of the room and kicking her once more before leaving.

* * *

Ziva climbed toward consciousness, the soft stroke of fingers in her hair bringing her back to the land of the living. The sensation was nice, soothing and in complete contrast to the brutal assault she had suffered the last few times she had been awake. She didn't want to wake up fully, but she did want to know who was being so kind to her. Had she been rescued already? She hoped that was it, the last thing she wanted to see when she opened her eyes was one of her captors, the thought of one of them stroking her hair just made her skin crawl.

Ziva took a deep breath in an attempt to gather her strength, but the action just irritated her ribs and she curled in pain, a hiss escaping her lips and making the hand still for a moment. She opened her eyes and looked around, thoroughly shocked at the sight that met her eyes. She was in a different room, and this room was filled with women of various ages. They were predominantly Arabic women, except for the hand that stroked her hair, and every single one of them looked abused and underfed. A few held babies or had bumps and she shivered, thinking of how those children came to be. Ziva reached up and snatched the hand that was still stroking her hair soothingly, and she followed the hand up to the woman's face. Her eyes grew wide and she stared for a few moments at the friend she had lost just over a year ago. She didn't look very well, she was covered in bruises but she was irrationally pleased to note she wasn't pregnant.

"Jenny?" she whispered, disbelief tingeing her voice. The woman smiled and nodded, her eyes misting.

"Ziva."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to Pixie-Galaxy-Dust, Nicoya456, Hiphuggers2, AthosionWarrior, Huddly, MissOrlane, HesMines, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs and MissJayne for reviewing!

Ziva took a deep, steadying breath as the loss she had felt a year ago and every day since then caught up with her and the tears she had kept at bay spilled from her eyes. She shuddered under the force of trying to stop them, but the pain of her injuries conspired against her, making the tears come thick and fast. A low moan of agony escaped her lips and she curled up, hugging her aching chest, while trying to make sure Jenny wouldn't disappear while she was crying.

Ziva let out all of the tightly reigned in emotions she had kept locked up for years and cried for more than just Jenny, or the predicament she was in now, she cried for Tony, whom she had never told how much she cared for him. Who was she kidding, she loved him, more than she had ever loved another person, but Jenny was here now. Jenny was dead, so that meant that it was nearly Ziva's time to go. She had hoped it would be Jenny that would come for her when it was her time, Jenny or Tali. Even Ari would have been a comfort, though he probably hated her too much for killing him.

She would never see Tony again, she would never hold him; speak to him, trade barbs with him. Love him. She cried for Gibbs, who had lost another team member so soon after losing Jenny, for McGee who looked up to Ziva because she seemed so indestructible and yet so human and for Abby, who would take the loss of her friend hard.

Jenny reached down to her and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her up from the floor and on to her lap. Ziva noted that the position was much warmer and she realised she had been lying on a thick bundle of blankets, rather than the cold floor, which was where she had been before waking up in here. A quick glance at the other women showed her they all had blankets to lie on and they were huddled, with those blankets wrapped around them. Why did Jenny have blankets too? She was dead wasn't she? She wouldn't need them, right? The warmth she could feel radiating from her must just be her own body's response to this powerful hallucination.

Ziva shook her head, unable to understand what was going on. Of course first seeing Jenny had made her think she was alive, but she knew she was dead, she had been there with her body, she had seen the blood coating the floor. Now she wasn't sure anymore. That had been a year ago though, how was she still alive? If indeed she was.

"Jenny… you are dead…" she whispered brokenly, her sobs not ceasing enough for her to speak properly. Jenny shook her head sadly.

"No, I'm not dead, Ziva. I just wish I was." She whispered softly back. Jenny sighed at her friend's wary expression and pulled one of Ziva's hands to her neck. When Ziva's hand met the warm skin of Jenny's neck, where she could feel a strong pulse pushing the blood through her body. She couldn't believe it, Jenny was here, she was alive. She sobbed harder; now that the floodgates had been opened she was finding it difficult to stop, which annoyed her. She wasn't supposed to be this weak, she was supposed to be strong and stoic, with all of her emotions carefully suppressed so they couldn't betray her, but the weeks of torture had loosened her resolve.

Had her father known? Or was this a coincidence? Normally she would have recited that Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences, but the behaviour and attitude of her father suggested that that was all it could be. He would never do anything so selfless. So maybe she wasn't alive. Ziva felt a headache coming on and realised for the first time that she was hungry, starving even, though she knew better than to ask for food. All of the women in this chamber were starving, and some of those had babies to feed. It didn't stop her stomach from growling though. Jenny chuckled a little when Ziva's stomach made noises so loud her crying couldn't drown it out.

"You're in luck Ziva; they said they would feed us today." She said to her softly, holding her tighter, and then relaxing her hold when Ziva drew in a sharp breath of pain. "Sorry, they really did a number on you, didn't they?"

"They became frustrated with my silence." She gave Jenny a small watery smile of victory, then swallowed hard and wiped her eyes. "What do they feed you?"

"Sometimes its ration bars that they've stolen, others it's just some mush that taste's foul, but don't spit it out, and try not to puke or you could die before they remember to feed us next." She shifted Ziva on her lap, moving her so they were in more contact, trying to share the heat they generated. Jenny reached around Ziva and drew the blankets over them both, tucking them in securely. "Obviously the pregnant and nursing women get the most, but we always try to share it out fairly."

Ziva nodded in understanding, but found herself drifting off. It had been a long time since she had felt so safe, but with Jenny here, she felt as if she could sleep and not worry about anything bad happening. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Jenny's slight frame, glad that even though she faced the end, she faced it with a friend who had been there already.

* * *

Tony stared blankly at the screen in front of him, flicking through the pictures they had taken at their current crime scene, but not taking in any details other than one. The victim was a woman, a dark haired Israeli woman. She had been strangled, there was plenty of evidence for Abby to sift through and the case looked almost open and shut. Dead bodies usually didn't bother him that much, but this one… the face looking blankly back at him in those pictures closely resembled Ziva, so closely that he couldn't tear his eyes away from her dark orbs, still open in shock and the mouth open out of desperation for oxygen.

It gave him chills to look at her, and it sent a cold feeling from his gut to his heart, a feeling that told him that it wasn't Ziva, but she _was_ in danger. He ignored it though, really a dead body that looked like a loved one would do that and there was no real reason to believe Ziva was in danger, or to care. He winced slightly, thinking of the things they had said to each other when they had last seen each other, when she had been waiting to get on her father's plane. If he could take it all back, he would, but he knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness. The fact she hadn't kept in contact with anyone at the Agency said she held them all in contempt. She hadn't even traded emails with Abby.

Tony sighed heavily and stood up from his desk, irritated that he couldn't concentrate on his work. Ziva was everywhere, he saw her in everything he did, and everywhere he went. She was in the driver's seat of the truck when he took a corner too sharp, or overshot his parking space, she was at the desk opposite him when he made a discovery and decided to brag about it, and she was in the conversations he had with his co-workers whenever a saying came up that he thought he would need to explain to her. She was never there physically though, just in memory. It was like she had died.

He couldn't do this anymore; the not knowing was driving him crazy. He strode over to McGee's desk and leaned over it towards the computer technician, who looked up briefly, shook his head and carried on typing on his computer.

"McGee." He said, and Tim looked up at him, his fingers stilling on the keyboard.

"Tony." He said back expectantly, a small tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"I'm going crazy." Tony said, his voice low so he couldn't be overheard by other Agents.

"Well I wasn't going to say anything, but…" McGee began sarcastically, but Tony cut him off.

"I need to know where Ziva is." He said urgently and this time McGee's face softened. They had all noted the resemblance between the victim and Ziva and, truth be told, they had been waiting for Tony to overreact.

"Tony…" he began softly, in an attempt to placate him in a way that wouldn't get him head-slapped by Gibbs, whose fuse was even shorter than Tony's. No one spoke of why though, it was too painful for everyone and nobody wanted to be the one talking about _her_ when Gibbs materialised out of thin air.

"McGee." Tony said tersely and Tim sighed and nodded.

"Alright, I'll try to find out for you, but not right now. This case is important and Gibbs is on edge. I'll find out what I can after." He said, not willing to budge from his compromise. Tony frowned and shook his head.

"Now McGee." He said forcefully, causing the geek to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Tony..." the older agent continued to stare at him so he sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Ziva was shaken awake, but not roughly. The smell of some sort of food filled her nostrils, and she tried harder to wake up. The hardness in her stomach was getting worse and her chest was even more tender, but despite that, she felt warm and safe. She was shaken again, and this time her quest to open her eyes was successful. Jenny was still holding her tightly, one hand holding something in front of her mouth, a rectangular piece of brown half wrapped in silver; a ration bar. Ziva sat up a little, sucking in a breath between her teeth when the movement caused the muscles of her chest to stretch painfully.

"Ziva, you're in luck, we got ration bars today. We already shared them out, this is all yours." Jenny said to her happily, helping her up into a sitting position. Ziva eagerly took the bar from Jenny and began to eat it, looking around at the other women. They were still eating theirs, though there was one left, lying on a blanket. She pointed to it, her mouth too full to talk. Jenny's face froze a little and she held Ziva a little tighter.

"That is for one of the women, she was taken just before they put the food in." she whispered, her voice wavered for a moment in sympathy for the other woman.

"Why?" Ziva asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, but needing to know what she faced. Jenny stayed silent for a few moments and then spoke.

"For fun. They split us in to two groups; the women they rape, and the women they torture. That woman is one of the unlucky group that doesn't have information to keep from them."

"That is monstrous!" Ziva exclaimed, and some of the women looked over at her curiously. She averted her eyes and looked at Jenny, desperately hoping that she had misheard. Jenny shrugged unhappily and shifted Ziva on her lap.

"It's effective. They know that raping the women they want to get information from will just make us close up or lose the will to live. We won't tell them anything. To stop it from happening, they split us up in to those two groups, but keep us together to make us all live in fear of being part of the other group. The women that they use as their playthings are the less fortunate ones, the ones that cracked under torture, or who were captured just for fun." She shifted uneasily. "I am part of the group that are taken out one at a time and tortured, and so are you now. I've been here for so long that I'm starting to wonder when I'll be in the other group. All of the information I had is out of date now. Even if I spilled everything I know to them, there would be nothing useful for them there." She whispered desolately.

"Do not think like that, Jenny." Ziva protested softly.

"Sometimes I wish they would take me, rather than the young women whose lives they destroy in their gang rapes, but at the same time a part of me is glad that I'm just being tortured. It's hard to live with those two parts every day, guilt eats away at me constantly, but there's nothing I can do. There's nothing any of us can do." She whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, until they heard footsteps coming towards their room. The door was pulled open and a woman was thrown in. She had tear tracks down her cheeks, but her face was impassive, like it had frozen in the expression of disinterest. She crawled over to her blankets and the women closest to her helped her to lie down and fed her, rubbing her throat to make her swallow, which she seemed disinclined to do on her own. The men at the door chuckled to themselves, making the other women throw murderous glances in their direction, but that didn't worry them. What did they have to fear from a bunch of starved and beaten women?

"Bring her." One of them said, pointing at Ziva, and Jenny's arms tightened around her. The men advanced towards them and Jenny tried to shuffle backwards, trying to keep Ziva from their clutches, but there was only so far she could go, and only so much strength she had in her body to fight them. They pulled her arms apart easily, their grip too much for her wasted frame and then they dragged Ziva away.

Ziva looked back at Jenny as she was dragged around the door frame, and gave her a subtle nod that said 'don't worry about me, I've endured worse'. She set her face, much like the woman they had just brought back, and used the time it took for them to deposit her back in that solitary cell to calm her mind, so she could stay strong throughout whatever they would throw at her.

* * *

McGee typed quickly, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he attempted to hack in to the Mossad database. Tony was keeping himself in check by writing up his report on the now concluded investigation. It really had been as easy as it had looked; the murderer hadn't worn gloves so his fingerprints and DNA had been all over the victim. The murderer was in jail now and the family had closure, which meant the case needed to have all of its paperwork finished. McGee had done his, Tony was throwing himself into his and Gibbs was down with Abby, taking her a Caf-Pow for a job well done.

His computer dinged and he smirked slightly, the firewalls and anti-malware software were unable to keep him out. He was in. he briefly considered telling Tony he was through, but decided instead to find out what he needed to know and then get out as quickly as possible. He didn't want those bots to latch on to his IP, he would be in a world of trouble if that happened and this time, Gibbs wouldn't get him out of it with a get-out-of-jail-free card. He needed to find out where Ziva was, so he searched for her file in the database, thinking it would have her currant mission in it, and then he could search the mission and know where she was and what she was doing.

He found her file, but it was a little harder than he thought it should be, but he dismissed it. Mossad probably had different priorities for information protection. He pulled up her information and smiled at the pictures that came attached to it. One was of her as a young woman, presumably when she had first joined, and the other was of her currently. The smile dropped off his face and he stared at the screen in shock, his hands falling from the keyboard. Tony noticed his silence and stood, quickly approaching and rounding his desk to stare at the same thing that had shocked McGee.

Ziva David was listed as deceased.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, LyssLovesTiva33, MissOrlane, ComicBookStory, Hiphuggers2, telainoflorien, Pixie-Galaxy-Dust, MissJayne, purplemonkeyz48, Grande, LadyJibbs, ncis-csiNY, Huddly and HesMines for reviewing! Also thanks to everyone who alerted and favourite this story!

A.N.2: There were a lot of emotions released in this chapter, and though I tried to work through it faithfully, I may have made Tony get too angry, but then I don't know how he would act if he lost the love of his life and didn't even know it until a few weeks after her death. I hope it is at least believable.

* * *

Tony stared at the typed word written in bold at the top of Ziva's file, his mind suddenly blank from the word that he just couldn't make sense of. Deceased; it was so final that he sucked in a breath as if he had been punched, his chest throbbing in pain in time with his heart beat, while his brain rebelled. It was a trick, his mind told him, trying to rationalise it away; it must be some Mossad ploy to protect the identities and whereabouts of their operatives, after all they hadn't looked at her file before, it could have always been that way. Ziva couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be. Why would they lie, though? What would they gain by it? Tony swallowed loudly and allowed his mind to go blank again, so he didn't have to think about it, and a numbing haze spread through him.

Tim glanced up at him apologetically and Tony frowned. Even through the numbness he knew he didn't want to be looked at like that; that was how the entire building looked at Gibbs, he should know, he had worn the expression himself sometimes, along with guilt. He shook his head as if to ward off the pity from his friend and pushed himself away from McGee's desk, avoiding looking at the younger agent, because seeing someone else's grief would make it real, something he would have to acknowledge. He sat at his own desk, practically falling into the chair and then he just stared at nothing.

He vaguely heard movement to his right and then McGee's pained face entered his field of vision, but he turned his head away, ignoring the sympathy. He didn't want sympathy, he wanted Ziva. He wanted her to sneak up behind him and scare the life out of him; he wanted her to threaten him with stationary or common household items to show him just how much of a creative assassin she had been. He wanted her to stand in front of him, to show him she was alive. He wanted to look into her eyes and see the amusement that his antics instilled in her, even when she was pretending to be stern.

"Tony… I'm s-" Tim began, but Tony cut him off, holding up a hand to ward off his condolences, as much to protect himself from hearing the words that would penetrate his numbing haze, than to parrot Gibbs' favourite rule.

"Sign of weakness. If you say it McGee, I'll…" he couldn't finish the sentence, the threat that would hang on the end bringing Ziva's absence into sharp relief. McGee nodded and then walked away, out of his line of sight, which suited Tony just fine. He lifted one of his hands and opened one of his drawers, having to concentrate on the movement because he found he didn't want to do anything. He would have stopped breathing if it had been a voluntary action. He plunged his hand in to the drawer and felt around until he found what he was looking for and withdrew it, carefully keeping his eyes away from it. He stuffed it in his pocket; he would look later, but not now. He couldn't face it now.

* * *

Ziva closed her eyes as one of the feet near her head swung back, and she curled as far as she could, so her stomach was protected by her legs. She knew that she couldn't avoid being hit, but she tried to limit the damage they were doing to her. When the man the foot belonged to drove it in to her arms, which were crossed over her head in an effort to protect herself, she grunted in pain but hung on to consciousness as her arms acted as a buffer for her head. The impact still hit her, and it hurt, but it mostly just jarred her neck, rather than spraining or snapping it.

They asked her questions sometimes and then beat her when she didn't answer, but they weren't getting anything from her; no Mossad secrets were passing her lips. It was after all, her father that had betrayed her, not the organisation, which brought hope and a sense of purpose to many Israeli's lives. She would not betray her fellow operatives, or the young trainees who were joining up to protect their families.

The men walked away to catch their breath and cussed at her, spitting at her prone figure in annoyance. They had encountered a few women who never broke, Jenny was one, and they could see that Ziva was going to be one of those women. They debated the pro's and con's of just killing her, or doing other things to her that they were not supposed to do but might resort to, but Ziva ignored it all as best she could. They were trying to scare her, since brutality had failed so far, but she wasn't going to break down in tears and beg. She'd kill herself before that could happen, and it never would. She just wasn't built that way.

While the men caught their breath and stretched their aching muscles, Ziva thought about her predicament. She was outnumbered by _lots_, since the other women were too fragile to fight their way to freedom; even Jenny hadn't been able to grip her tight enough to make the men exert themselves when they had torn her from her arms earlier. She would not be able to escape with all of the women, they would be gunned down while they crawled out of the cells, and if that wasn't enough to depress her, she had no idea what the layout was of this… facility. But she couldn't escape on her own, they would uproot and disappear, either taking the women with them, or just killing them. She couldn't face the thought of getting free if it would kill her friend.

The men moved back to her and watched her as she ignored them. They kicked her one more time, but it was obvious that they were done for the day. They joked between themselves about dragging her back to her cell naked, but they didn't make a move to take her clothes from her. Why? It was almost like they were scared of the consequences, and that made Ziva feel both elated and wary. Someone was calling the shots in this base, someone frightening, or murderous, enough to keep order through fear. Ziva made a mental note to ask Jenny some more questions when she was dumped back in with the other women.

The men grabbed her feet and dragged her out of the cell, ignoring the low groan that escaped her at the sharp, uncaring motions. Ziva bit her lip to stop herself from crying out as her tortured muscles screamed in pain at being stretched after taking such a beating. Her abdomen was uncomfortably hard now and it worried her, really worried her. Internal bleeding was serious, and though it didn't seem to be in a hurry to kill her yet, she knew it was just a matter of time. If she was to help these women, and herself, escape then she was going to have to do it soon.

The men finally opened the door to the holding cell and threw her in, and the women closest to her instantly reached out to help her over to her blankets. Jenny thanked them and they all helped to get Ziva settled in the blankets with Jenny before moving back to their own. Ziva shuddered in agony and buried her head under the blankets, seeking the limited warmth that her friend could provide. She just wanted to sleep, but she needed to ask Jenny questions. The decision of which to do was taken from her when Jenny snuggled up with her and soothingly stroked her hair, lulling her to sleep. She had been through so much; her body was so tired that she was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

* * *

Tony didn't know how long he had sat at his desk staring into space, but it wasn't nearly long enough. His head suddenly shot forward but it didn't hurt, or maybe it did but he just didn't notice. _Gibbs just head-slapped you_, his mind told him, and he found he couldn't find it in himself to care. He looked up at the tall man standing over him, long enough to identify him as Gibbs, and then looked away, disinterested. Why was he bothering him? Surely _he_, of all people, should know that he wanted to be left alone.

"Snap out of it Tony." Gibbs said to him, his voice low as if he didn't want anyone to overhear.

"She's dead, boss." His hollow voice took someone by surprise and he looked up and away from Gibbs to see Ducky standing next to him and Abby, wrapped in McGee's arms to their left, her tearstained face looking mournfully at him. She disentangled herself from McGee and threw herself at Tony, wrapping him in a big, bone crushing hug. He patted her back, but oddly the hug didn't comfort him, it made him worse, because it forced him to _feel_. He had successfully avoided feeling anything for the past, however-long-it-had-been. It started to trickle into his brain, like a brook forging a new path to a river, she was dead. The last of his denial resurfaced, stronger now that it was faced with the terrible truth and Tony shook his head sharply, schooling his features into a carefully unconcerned expression. "No… this must be a mistake. Standard Mossad deflection tactics or something…"

"Tony they don't do that with their records. I've checked them before." McGee said, and even his voice was apologetic. Tony frowned as that hope slid away and he turned to Tim irately.

"When? Not recently, otherwise you would have seen when they put _that _on her file." He shouted in the suddenly silent squad room. "Do we even know how long it's been? How _long_ has she been dead?" he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Two weeks. Tony, please, calm down. I checked the records back when Ziva first joined us. Gibbs wanted to know-" he began, but Gibbs himself cut him off.

"She knew about us, she wrote profiles on us, but we knew nothing about her. McGee hacked in and found her file for me." He explained, and a small part of Tony's mind noted that it was the first time Gibbs had taken the time to properly explain something to him, while another part quailed at the thought that he had been living his life for the past two weeks and it never occurred to him to find out how she was doing.

"Why didn't you just ask Jenny? She knew her for years before she came to NCIS." Tony argued back. It was the first time, to Tony's knowledge, that Jenny's name had been uttered in Gibbs' presence and his reaction was not as they had all feared for so long. In fact, there was no reaction, nothing to show she had ever meant anything to him. It unsettled him.

"I wanted an unbiased opinion, and I did ask her, she just said she was good, very good. I wanted to know more." Gibbs said evenly. Watching his senior Agent, the man he thought of like a son, fall apart was painful, but it was a necessary part of grief. "Take some time off, DiNozzo. Try to…" Gibbs trailed off, knowing that nothing was going to help Tony get over Ziva's death, but he had to look out for the team, and right now Tony was a risk to his teammates. "Just take a week or two." Tony looked back at Gibbs and found that he was annoyed. Anger bubbled up from his chest and he stepped away from Abby.

"How is time off going to help? It's not going to bring her back." he stated forcefully.

"Nothing will bring her back, Tony. She's gone." Abby whispered to him and he turned back to the youngest member of the team. Her eyes pleaded with him to calm down, but he couldn't, the anger was pushing every other emotion back, keeping it all from overwhelming him. He needed to be angry.

"I need to see her, I need to know she's dead, that she's never coming back and that won't happen until I see her body." He said through clenched teeth, admitting she was dead was painful, but a small part of him said that she couldn't be dead, and wouldn't believe it until he saw her body with his own eyes.

"Try to remember her how she was while she lived, not after she died." Gibbs offered quietly, and somehow that made Tony see red.

"Unlike you boss, I can't just walk away from her death and pretend she didn't exist!" he spat out irately, watching how Gibbs suddenly became very still.

"Anthony!" Ducky exclaimed, surprise and reproach in his voice, and for the first time in a while, Tony felt guilty, but not enough to halt the deluge of abuse that was pouring out of him.

"You're out of line DiNozzo." Gibbs said, dangerously and so quietly he was almost whispering, his blue eyes fixed on Tony's face, his expression braced for the comments he knew would follow.

"Am I? We can't even mention Jenny's name for fear of how it will affect you, but from what I've seen just now we shouldn't have bothered. She obviously meant nothing to you, just another person you have to clean up after once their dead, right?" Tony exploded at him. If he had been thinking, he would have noted how it was so silent in the normally bustling bullpen; he could have heard a paperclip drop.

"Tony…"

"No McGee, I'm serious! What would you all say to me if I decided to take a can of gasoline over to Ziva's place right now? Huh?" he asked, looking into the faces of the people he counted as friends, and they looked away before eye contact could be made. "Yeah, that's right. You'd tell me I was crazy, you'd hate me. But because it was Gibbs starting that fire we all just turned a blind eye." He seethed.

"You done?" Gibbs asked calmly in that infuriating way of his, and it just fed the flames of Tony's anger.

"Why don't you talk about her anymore? If you want to remember people as they lived, why do we never hear anything about her? Why don't you remember her with us?" he shouted, watching Gibbs' reaction, waiting for the explanation, or the explosion. He got neither, and yet somehow, both.

"Why would I want to talk about her with _you_?" Gibbs asked, his voice almost tranquil, but with so much venom that Tony physically recoiled from the words. Why would Gibbs want to talk about Jenny with the one that let her get killed? Tony's anger began to subside in the face of the guilt that began to overwhelm him and he suddenly felt incredibly claustrophobic. He needed to leave, he needed to get away. Tony lowered his gaze from Gibbs', unable to stare him down when he recalled what he had just done. Tony picked up his car keys and his coat and walked out of NCIS.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted and favourite this story, you know who you are!

Gibbs watched Tony's retreating back impassively as the younger man stalked towards the stairs, all sympathy for him having drained from him moments ago when he had brought up _her_, and used her as a shield against his grief. That was a line that should never be crossed, it was so obviously off limits, but Tony had crossed it, and he'd done it with groundless accusations. Jethro had felt _very_ strongly for Jenny, he had loved her, but his mind automatically deflected his real feelings as a result of his training; he couldn't afford to let his feelings get in the way of his duty, but that didn't change the fact she had meant a lot to him.

He had almost successfully suppressed every memory about Jenny, though it put a familiar knot in his stomach to think that it had taken the destruction of everything that could bring her to mind, including her house and all of her possessions, to put her to the back of his mind. It had helped that no one mentioned her, afraid of angering him, but the very act of coming into to work every day reminded him of her. Tony's comments about setting fire to her house and needing to see Ziva's body had brought back a lot of painful memories from Jenny's death, and he wasn't quite sure what he had done to warrant Tony's attack.

He told himself that burning down her house was the only way to keep her failure a secret, but he knew that he and Mike could have taken Svetlana's body somewhere else to dump it, or brought it to NCIS as some crazy woman who had started shooting at him. Leon wouldn't have been able to disprove it. Hell, he could have lured her to his own house, or a park or something, but he had _needed_ to be near Jenny, and her study, the room she spent most of her time in while she was at home, had held the most memories for him.

He shook his head minutely to himself and sighed, before turning to the stairs that would take him up to MTAC and Leon's office. The team all averted their eyes before he could meet any of theirs, and Gibbs felt his stomach drop. They were thinking that Tony was right, that he had felt nothing for Jenny, and that annoyed him. Ducky looked back at him and scrutinised his expression carefully, looking for confirmation of Tony's words. Jethro internally cursed Tony, he had made his oldest friend question his feelings for Jenny, and that was not an easy thing to do. Gibbs glared at him irately and strode past his team, up the stairs and towards the Director's office.

Tony meant a lot to him too, his entire team did; they were his family, but his feelings for Jenny superseded those he had for everyone else. Ducky knew it, Tobias knew it, everyone probably knew it, except Jenny. He snorted indelicately at himself. The one that should have known his feelings was the only one he could successfully hide them from. From when she had walked back into his life four years ago, until the end of her life, she'd had no idea he had loved her, was _in_ love with her, and now she never would.

He couldn't hate Tony for striking out at him in his grief, he had felt like doing the same when he heard about Jenny's death and then faced Tony and Ziva outside the Diner she had died in. He had wanted to lay all of the blame on them, to let them know that they had killed Jenny with their negligence, that she would still be alive if they had merely done their job and followed her wherever she went, but he couldn't. He had been numb, the reality just hadn't penetrated his mind at that point, even after seeing her name card and the pool of blood; it was _just_ _blood_. It wasn't really connected to her; her body wasn't there to confirm it for him.

He had soothed Tony and Ziva, not really feeling any of the sincerity he was trying to convey, not really feeling anything. Denial was how he survived that day, until that moment in autopsy, when he had the black body bag right in front of him, Ducky looking on remorsefully, as he reached for the zip. His eyes had conveyed what he had felt in that moment, he knew they had been full of pain and resigned desolation; he hadn't been able to hold it in any longer. That was why Ducky never questioned him, his actions or his feelings, because he and the body bag were the only witnesses to his true feelings.

But he didn't open it. He couldn't, it would be too real. Seeing Jenny, her pale, cold, bloodless body on Ducky's steel slab was a sight he had promised himself he would never see, back when she had been his probie, his partner, when her life had been his responsibility. So he had removed his hand from the zip and walked away without a backwards glance. Jenny was dead, that knowledge was unavoidable now, but he would forever hold her in his memory as the perfect vision of the woman he had fallen in love with, rather than the corpse that Tony, Ziva and Ducky had seen.

He strode along the balcony and through Cynthia's office, barrelling into the Directors office without stopping, just like old times. Cynthia looked up briefly as he passed, but she didn't have the same working relationship with Leon as she'd had with Jenny. Leon was professional at all times, and his attitude grated on her nerves. She resumed typing on her computer before Gibbs even touched Leon's door, she really couldn't muster up enough energy to care that Leon might be disturbed, and knowing Gibbs meant that it would be a wasted effort if she tried.

Leon looked up, startled as the door swung open and Gibbs strode through, slamming the door shut behind him. Gibbs wasn't usually this disrespectful to him, though he knew this was how he acted towards the former Director on a regular basis. Gibbs approached Leon and leaned on the desk towards him, a quiet anger building inside him.

"Leon. Why was I not informed of Ziva David's death?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice. Leon's eyes narrowed at him, but not quickly enough to hide the flicker of his eyes away from his face, which said this wasn't the first he had heard of this. Gibbs knew that he was barking up the right tree.

"I hadn't thought you were on speaking terms." Leon answered, attempting to evade the question, but Gibbs wasn't going to be sidetracked that easily. He leaned closer to him, his anger boiling up from his stomach, ready to fuel his argument.

"That doesn't matter; she was a member of my team. I always want to know everything about my team members, Leon, you know that." He said significantly, staring into the other man's eyes, waiting for the fracture in his defences that would signal his surrender. Leon looked away from him and Gibbs smirked slightly. Gotcha.

"What makes you think I knew?" he asked, the question leaving his lips before he took the time to evaluate the position he had been manoeuvred into, but then Gibbs told him what, exactly, that position was.

"Don't play dumb Leon, MTAC is one door down with a direct satellite link to anywhere in the world. Are you really telling me that Director David didn't say anything, not even enough to excuse actions taken by his operatives?" he prodded irately, watching the other man break and finally look down.

"He did say she had died, he thoroughly described the operation and what went wrong when one of our Agents was caught in the crossfire in the desert. Two weeks ago." He said, surrendering his information. Gibbs frowned at that. David had told him the day she had been killed? Since when did Mossad give up information that easily?

"He told you the moment it happened?" he asked in clear disbelief, and Leon shrugged.

"Not exactly, he told us three or four hours after the incident." Gibbs stared at him incredulously. Mossad had told them about their operation in such a short time, which never happened, not for any reason.

"I want to speak to that Agent, I assume he or she is still alive?" he said, straightening his pose and moving towards the door. Leon nodded.

"Yes he is. I could get him on in MTAC in a few hours." He offered, watching Gibbs reach for the door handle and leave without waiting for dismissal, his parting words floating back to him.

"Good."

* * *

Ziva was awoken by the desperate need for oxygen. She panicked and struggled to breathe in until her faculties were returned to her and she realised her throat was relaxed to allow the contents of her stomach to pass out of her body. That didn't erase her need to breathe though. Jenny was holding her hair away from her sweaty face and away from her mouth as she retched again and again, her body shaking with the effort to force her last meal out. She felt a sharp pressure on her stomach and suddenly, she could breathe. Her next breath was such a relief she slumped back against Jenny and sucked in a few more, glad to feel the sir moving in and out.

She closed her eyes and tried to settle her stomach, but the smell was difficult to ignore and impossible to escape. Jenny shuffled away from the soiled spot on the floor, dragging Ziva with her, making soothing noises and rubbing her back rhythmically. Ziva opened her eyes and found that Jenny had turned her away from her purging, probably to stop her from seeing it, but she need not have bothered. She could taste the blood in her mouth; she knew she was in a bad way and apparently her time was getting more and more limited.

"You're ok Ziva." She cooed to her softly, stroking her hair back and wiping the sweat from her friend's brow. Ziva smiled and gave a short humourless laugh.

"No I am not, but then none of are, are we?" she asked quietly. Jenny's hand stilled and she sighed before pulling her closer. It was then that Ziva realised she wasn't the only one shaking. Jenny had been scared for her life, enough to squeeze her stomach in an attempt to help her purge. She had probably saved her life with that manoeuvre.

"No, but we won't get any better, you might." She explained hopefully, but Ziva knew it was false hope born of desperation.

"We cannot stay here, we need to escape." She said, her voice stronger than she felt at that moment, but she could see the other women turn to look at her, like she had called their names. They needed to get out of here.

"Some have tried, they always catch them." Jenny cautioned, but it sounded just like a precaution, so she could say she had told her about it later.

"They did not have our training Jenny. We _can_ get out of here!" she said firmly, grasping her friends arms and looking deep into her eyes, trying to convey that in a few days, she would be gone, one way or another. Jenny looked away, unable to face the message Ziva was projecting to her, but reality was harsh.

She looked at Ziva then, her face with an open longing that made the other woman slightly uneasy. "You are the only one with the strength to break out of here, the only one whose muscles aren't wasted to the point of finding it difficult to walk, the only one that could fight her way out and bring help. The women have been talking about this opportunity for some time, and they are all willing to do whatever is necessary to help you escape." Jenny spoke softly, but her words were said with an energy that almost made Ziva smile.

"Jenny, any avenue of escape must be tried." She said, agreeing to the plan that she didn't know anything about, but one thing was for certain; she was not going to waste this opportunity, perhaps the only one they had for freedom. She would do whatever she had to in order to help these women, herself and Jenny, escape.

"We will get only one chance, Ziva. If they catch you, they will not show you any mercy." Jenny said gravely, and Ziva nodded.

"I will be ready when you are."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to Hiphuggers2, MissJayne, Grande, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, Pixie-Galaxy-Dust and HesMines for reviewing!

Tony knelt in front of the door and looked around him to make sure no one was watching him. There was no one around, so he pulled out his picks and fiddled around with the lock until it clicked and the door swung inwards. He pocketed his picks and reached out, pushing the door open and walking cautiously in. The room was spartan, but obviously lived in, and he pushed the door closed and then made his way further in. This was Ziva's apartment, her home for the last four years while she had been working at NCIS, and it was still hers. She had continued to pay for the apartment even while she had been in Tel Aviv, and that said to him she had planned to come back. Had she meant to come back to work with them? To see them? Talk to them? Had she meant to come back to him?

The bright orange fog cap that was laid carefully on the arm of an easy chair drew his gaze, and he stared at it forlornly. She hadn't taken it with her, the cap that meant so much to her. He recalled when that young man walked into NCIS with McGee to report a murder, and then he had revealed he was reporting his own case. He had been dying of radiation poisoning and unfortunately for him, it had taken too long to find the cause and the perpetrator, so he had ended up smoking himself to death with cigars laced with a radioactive isotope, though he probably would have died even if he'd gotten rid of the cigars. The levels of radiation had been too high.

Ziva had recognised him, though it wasn't until she was in the hospital with him that she realised how she knew him. She had fallen for the dying man, and his florescent orange running cap had been her memento of him. Why would she leave without it? He dragged his eyes from the cap and wandered into her bedroom, the messiest room in the apartment, though messy wasn't how he would class it. The bed was made, the drawers were all closed and nothing looked out of place. If it wasn't for the haphazard pile of pictures that occupied the top of the bedside drawers, it would have been as neat and tidy as the rest of the house.

Tony walked to the photos and picked them up, flicking through them and realising he recognised most of the situations where they had been taken. He picked up the one she had taken when they had been investigating a death on the Navy ship 'Chimera', she had caught him recoiling in terror from a rat, and a small smile graced his lips while he looked it over, then he discarded it to the bottom of the pile. The next one was of him with a large cheeky grin, leaning over McGee's desk with a tube of super glue in his hand. He smiled at how Ziva had captured him in those moments. She had an envious attention to detail that only one other person he'd known had shown with pictures, Kate; though she had specialised in sketches and random pencil drawings.

The next one was of Ziva and himself from their undercover mission. Abby had taken the pictures and made sure that they were in the place of the real assassin couples' in the system and other places, so their cover was solid. They had gotten a little silly and Abby had gone wild with the camera while they threw their arms around each other, posing in dramatic romantic poses. One of those pictures, one that had gone missing from Abby's lab and the one that he had just found here was one of the last to be taken. They each wore large smiles, their faces slightly flushed from embarrassed laughter and they were looking at each other happily, leaning into each other and trying to keep each other upright. It was a good one of their early years so he pocketed it.

The next picture made him swallow hard, tears springing to his eyes. It was one of Ziva and Jenny stood next to a large nondescript car in a desert. They stood side by side with an arm around each other's shoulders. The shadow on the ground said they were posing for the camera but the pose seemed so natural that it was obvious they were very good friends, that they trusted each other with their lives. He ground his teeth together as he remembered Ziva's insistence that they check on Jenny when they were in LA, that something was wrong, and how he dismissed her instincts because he was unwilling to get himself and Ziva involved in Jenny's newest mess.

She had trusted them with her life, and he had kept her saviour by his side, badgering her to see the sights and forget her duty. Jenny had been gunned down alone. He looked at the big smiles on both faces and his gut twisted painfully. They were both dead now, but at least they were together again. He picked up the picture and put it in his pocket, along with the one he had brought from work. These pictures were coming home with him, to join the album he had been making since his early years in Baltimore. His album of memories, holding the best moments he had managed to get on film or memory card with his teams and his lost friends. He turned away from the pictures that were still laid out and walked over to the wardrobe, opening the door and gazing inside at the pretty clothes that Ziva had amassed in her time here.

They were all brightly coloured, no drab browns or beige's at all and he suddenly realised why she had left the orange cap. It was too noticeable. She had left behind all of the clothes that she owned that stood out; taking with her only the ones that would allow her to blend in seamlessly in a crowd. She had walked into his life as an assassin, and that was how she had left it. Tony blinked back the tears, not allowing them to fall, not yet. He had to keep it together until he got back to his place, until he put these pictures in their new home. He closed the wardrobe and retreated from the apartment, closing the door firmly and making his way as quickly as he could to his own place.

The trip to his house was more than likely the quickest one he had ever made, his driving style taking on the characteristics of a classic Gibbs car journey. Blaring horns and angry exclamations from fellow motorists were the norm in those conditions, so it didn't bother him, or make him slow down. He made it in just five minutes and then after carefully parking his car, he loped up to his front door, unlocked it and let himself in, closing the door and locking it behind him. He wanted to be alone, and he wasn't expecting anyone, so common sense told him to _make_ _sure_ he would be alone. Years in law enforcement and as a federal agent also ingrained in him to keep his door locked, because he had dealt with the consequences of someone not doing so many times, at many different crime scenes.

He walked swiftly to his bedroom, pulling out the pictures he'd kept in his pocket and then discarding his coat and keys on the way, not really caring where they ended up. He moved to his bed and placed the photos there, then walked to his wardrobe and dropped to his knees. He pulled out a few shoe boxes from the bottom of it, which he had arranged to hide what he was looking for; his album. He pulled it out reverently and stood, walking back to his bed and sitting heavily on it. He reached over for the pictures he had put on the bed and picked them up, opened the album and found the next empty slots. He pushed the pictures in to the clear sleeves carefully and then took a deep breath.

He looked down at the pictures he had just added, the ones from Ziva's home and the one from work, and pressure began to build behind his eyes. The one from work depicted Ziva in her NCIS jacket and cap. Though it didn't show it, he knew she was crouched down and searching through detritus on the forest floor of Shenandoah Park, he could remember the moment he took it flawlessly. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and though the picture was a close up, she didn't seem to have noticed that he had taken it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, that on anyone else would look severe, but on Ziva it just brought the focus to her chocolate eyes, her cute little nose and her full lips. She was beautiful.

He knew that many people would find a picture of a smiling person to be more appealing than one like this, but to him this picture captured who she was perfectly. This was the picture he had taken with him while he had been an Agent afloat, it had kept her near him while he had been alone and, though he would never admit it, he had put it in his wallet after getting back to NCIS. Somewhere during the last year it had made its way in to the drawer of his desk at work, and there it had stayed until now. He couldn't leave it at work now; he didn't want anyone to know how he felt for her.

The pressure released slightly, and Tony realised his cheeks were wet. Tears streamed down his face and he gazed at the photos miserably. She was gone, she was really gone and these pictures were the last contact he would ever have with her. She was never going to sneak up on him, threaten him, break into his desk and move around his stationary or make fun of his lady friends. She was dead, just like Kate, Paula and Jenny. He took a shuddering breath and sobs broke through his crumbling barriers, breaking them down completely and allowing the wave of grief to overcome him. At least she was with her sister now, wherever that was. He should believe that she should be in heaven, which was where Jews went, right? But he wasn't religious, so he didn't know what to think. He would like to believe she is happy though, and that thought brought him a little comfort through the pain, but it still overwhelmed him.

Who had done this to her? Who had taken her from him? Who had decided to pull the trigger on the only woman he had ever really loved in this life? In an attempt to stem the emotional devastation, he clung to the one thing that could give him strength; anger. Someone had murdered Ziva; they had killed her in cold blood, and taken away one of the few things that made his life worth living.

The tears stopped gradually as the fury built, and he stood up, dropping the album onto his bed and stalking out of his bedroom, picking up his keys and walking out of his apartment. He couldn't help her, couldn't save her when she was already dead, but he _could_ avenge her death. He _could_ make sure the person, or persons, who killed her never killed another person again. He could go back to NCIS and find out as much as possible about the circumstances of her death, and then jump on a plane to find and dish out his revenge, his justice for the young woman whom he had loved more than his own life.

* * *

Gibbs stood in the darkness of MTAC, waiting for Leon Vance to appear and authorise the connection to Somalia, where a detachment of Agents waited to talk to him, to tell him what exactly had gone on over there during the mission that had claimed Ziva's life. The new Director had made it clear to the techs that only transmissions that were authorised by himself or his superiors were to be connected, anyone doing so without authorisation would be fired, so they cast nervous glances at Gibbs, who was struggling with his temper, and waited for the go ahead.

The young Mossad officer liaison to NCIS had been sharp, well trained and gifted in assassination and stealth, so there was no way in his mind she could have been taken by surprise, especially in an area that was occupied by NCIS agents, even if some of them were undercover. She was too good, too intuitive to not notice their presence. The only thing that could warrant this failure weighed heavily on him; his own training. She had been a cold blooded killer that would shoot on demand and at the slightest provocation, her instincts were honed to a fine point and she could sense and pinpoint someone watching her over a crowded street, but after four years on his team, her reflexes had slowed down.

He had taught Ziva to trust her team mates and their instincts, to capture and interrogate rather than to kill and all of this may have made her too soft to function in the hostile world that she had come from. Had his interference led her to her death? Jenny had wanted him to teach Ziva to be a great investigator, so she wouldn't have to rely on others to read a crime scene, but instead he had made her rely _more_ heavily on others. He wondered if she would still be alive if Jenny had decided to not offer her a place at NCIS, but discarded the thought. Jenny wouldn't do anything unless she had already thought it through meticulously, so there was no use second guessing her decision.

The door to MTAC opened, a small triangle of light spilled into the dark interior of the large room, and Leon walked down the ramp, letting the door close by itself behind him. He looked up at the blank screen and then met Gibbs' eyes before turning to one of the technicians and telling him to connect the transmission. He picked up one of the headsets and stood next to Gibbs as the screen came to life, displaying the inside of a shabby building. Two people stood in front of the screen, a third person was sat in a chair, a new bandage around his head.

"Director Vance, Agent Fred Hilliard is here as requested." One of the Agents said, gesturing to the guy that was sat down next to him.

"Agent Hilliard, I'd like you to tell us as much as you can about-" Leon began but Gibbs cut him off, not in the mood for the polite dancing around of the issue that Vance was about to indulge in.

"-everything you know about Ziva David and her death." Gibbs said urgently, ignoring the angry glare that Leon gave him.

"_Agent Gibbs_." Leon said annoyed, but it was clear that he had lost control of the meeting when the Agent on the screen responded to Gibbs, ignoring his tone.

"Yes sir. We, that is me and Agent Garry Briars,-" he gestured to the other Agent that had yet to speak and Gibbs realised he was stood behind Hilliard's chair because he was pushing it. Hilliard was in a wheelchair. "-were out on a patrol. Another of our supply drops went missing so we were out looking for it to see if it just missed the drop point or if it was stolen."

"What supplies?" Vance asked curiously, annoyed that he hadn't been told about it.

"Err, ration bars, water bottles and ammo; no guns though." He replied to Vance and then turned back to Gibbs. "We got to one of those abandoned towns that litter this place because of the high death rate, and saw that not only were there people there, but our supplies were there too. I sent Agent Briars back to the base for backup and infiltrated the camp myself." He said, and Gibbs watched as Agent Briars face hardened. Guilt anger and shame all filtered across his face before he could stop it and it didn't take a genius to figure out he was angry that he had listened to him.

"You left your partner in enemy territory? Alone?" Vance asked incredulously, and Briars face twisted in anger.

"Yes Director. It was an _order_." He stressed the word distastefully, while somehow avoiding being insubordinate to Leon, his full feelings on the matter being conveyed adequately for the techs and Leon to feel sympathy with his position, but Gibbs found the opposite reaction stirring in the pit of his stomach. Tony and Ziva had let Jenny die because she had _ordered_ them away. They had decided their jobs were worth more than her life and she had been shot to death because of their selfishness. _Briars was very lucky that Hilliard is still alive. _He looked around when all eyes turned to him and he realised he must have spoken aloud.

"You infiltrated the camp?" he prompted ignoring their looks, and Hilliard nodded, continuing his story.

"Yes, and I listened to some of their conversations and found that this group was part of Hamas. I found it strange that they were operating so close to Mossad territory with no Mossad operatives in sight to take them out, but then I figured they hadn't been clued in yet. Anyway, I got further in to one of the buildings and realised that it was full of women. These guys are monsters, from what I saw those women are better off dead." He said disgustedly, and it didn't leave much to the imagination about what was going on there.

"Go on." Gibbs prompted again.

"Well, I was just leaving that building and about to move towards one if the others when I saw Officer David in the shadows of the buildings. She was clearly surprised by the camp, or maybe just the size of the operation, because she pulled out some paper, which I assumed to be her intelligence, and then tore it up while cursing in Arabic. I picked it up once she'd moved on, but that is pretty much the last thing I remember. A bomb went off in one of the buildings and I was thrown backwards into a pile of rubble and knocked unconscious. When I came to, I was hidden in the rubble and my groans of pain alerted Agent Briars I was there. The camp had moved on by then and I was taken to the hospital." He explained, shrugging apologetically.

"Where are the bits of paper that Ziva tore up now?" Gibbs asked him, and Hilliard blinked blankly.

"In my other pants." He answered seriously. "The hospital sent my stuff back here. No one thought to get it and I forgot about it until just now. I'll contact you again when I've pieced it together." he answered ruefully, but then Gibbs knew how elusive memory could be after an explosion.

"Did you see her body?" he asked him, not really interested in the answer. She had been blown up, not even her advanced senses could warn her about that.

"No, but I did see her go into the building that the explosion came from." Hilliard replied and Leon nodded.

"Thank you Agent Hilliard." The Director said and then addressed the other Agents, but Gibbs stopped listening. He tore off his headset and chucked it at one of the techs, who caught it expecting the throw, and then stormed out of MTAC. She was really dead, and apparently it was the fault of misinformation and explosives. He shook his head, something still didn't feel right about this, but he didn't have anything to go by except this piece of ripped up paper that the Agent had picked up and forgotten about. He had to hope that there was something incriminating in there, because this had the flavour of a set up, and he wasn't going to rest until he had given Tony the same chance for revenge that he'd had with Shannon, Kelly and Jenny.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to LyssLovesTiva23, Pixie-Galaxy-Dust, ParisLoveSummer1999, Hiphuggers2, AlexisSophia, MissJayne, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs and Georgia-NCIS-Peach for reviewing! Also to HesMines who has reviewed too late to get a mention recently. ;p

Ziva woke up slowly from her heavy slumber, and cautiously took in her surroundings before attempting to move. She was still in Jenny's arms, and though she was more comfortable than she would be if she was lying just on the floor, her right side was numb from lying in one position for hours. She shifted, carefully rolling onto her back and then onto her left side so she didn't jar her abdomen. She couldn't tell how long she had been here; she seemed to spend her time sleeping or being abused, and that meant her internal clock was seriously messed up.

Jenny jolted slightly and Ziva realised she had scared her by moving around so close to her. She looked over at her friend apologetically and Jenny shook her head at her, a small smile on her face, embarrassed at her fright. Jenny took deep breaths to get her heart rate down and Ziva snuggled closer, pulling her feet back under the blankets, her sock covered toes getting cold. The room they were in got very cold during the night, so she could assume with reasonable accuracy that it was dark outside, though if the day was ending or beginning was beyond her.

She couldn't remember when she had lost her shoes, frankly she'd had more to worry about than if her shoes had been stolen, but thinking of escape made her wish she had some sort of foot protection. That reminded her of the questions she had wanted to ask Jenny earlier, so she looked back at her friend and whispered to her, trying not to disturb the other sleeping women, or their babies.

"Jenny, how long exactly have you been here?" she asked softly, and Jenny closed her eyes in concentration, probably trying to figure out an exact number, but gave up with a sigh.

"I don't know. The days blur together, but since you said I'd been dead for just over a year, I'd hazard a guess at a month or two shy of a year." She answered apologetically, and Ziva's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Where were you for those few months?" she asked, concerned.

"I have no idea, but it was definitely run by a completely different person. They didn't rape the women there; their methods of torture were deemed far more persuasive than that. They all thought it was a disgusting thing to do anyway, I often heard them talking about their families, children, wives. They were far more considerate." She explained, and it almost sounded to Ziva that she would rather still be there.

"Why were you sent here then?" Ziva asked. The other camp sounded like the kind of place that people only left once they were dead. How had Jenny gotten out alive, and why?

"They're Hamas, Ziva, both that group and this one. The other was the larger, more respected group, the one that got the best results." Jenny whispered to her, and Ziva stiffened. Their hatred of her made much more sense now, and why her father had sent her here to die. Hamas were sure to kill her and make her suffer as long as they could. It made her blood boil to know that her father had sent his own flesh and blood to be abused in such a way. Jenny reached over to her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, sensing Ziva's emotions were running high. "They were good, too good. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before; it was almost like every nerve ending was on fire. It helped them quite a lot that I had been shot already, they just widened the holes, kept them open." She spoke but her eyes took on a far away glaze, like she was reliving the torture. She shuddered and Ziva squeezed her hand reassuringly, letting her know she was there for her.

"Yet you did not break?" Ziva asked, a certain amount of awe entering her voice and Jenny's lip twisted into a self depreciating smile, a short humourless laugh escaping her.

"I couldn't, but I wanted to, you have no idea how much I wanted to. The pain they inflicted on me was so intense I couldn't physically force myself to form a coherent sentence. They tortured me every day the entire time I was there before giving up and labelling me 'unbreakable'. That was when I was passed off to this group. They see me as a challenge, if they break me when the other group couldn't, they will get such a boost to their standing in the Hamas organisation that more prisoners will be sent here. I don't want to be the cause of more women being defiled in this place." She said emphatically and Ziva winced at the thought of more rooms filled with huddled women while the men laughed on the other side of the door. She wouldn't let that happen. This cell was going to die, even if it killed her.

"Have you seen the leader?" she asked Jenny pointedly, and her friend raised an eyebrow and then nodded.

"Yes, he tortured me personally at least three times, hoping to be the one to make me crack, but after what I endured in the other camp, this is nothing. He rules with an iron fist though, any man that goes against his orders is shot. They are all terrified of him." she told her seriously and the wheels in Ziva's head began to turn faster.

"If I were to kill him?" she asked excitedly, but her enthusiasm was curbed by Jenny shaking her head.

"They would be relieved, Ziva, not frightened or thrown off. The most that would happen would be a fight for the position of leader." She cautioned and Ziva's posture relaxed forlornly. She'd thought that she would be able to kill the leader, and then the rest of the men in the confusion and fear, but if they didn't care her plan wouldn't work. She sighed heavily, closed her eyes and fought against the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. They were stuck here, and though she wanted to escape and take all of the women with her, she now wanted to kill all of the men that imprisoned and abused them too. She opened her eyes, and decided to ignore the odds stacked against them for now.

"Do you know the layout of this place?" she asked Jenny hopefully, and watched her friend nod her head, happy to be able to help in some aspect of the escape plan.

"I know that following the corridor outside this room to the left leads to lots of closed doors, mostly solitary confinement rooms and eventually the room that serves as the canteen. To the right are the men's sleeping rooms and the way to the room that the leader tortured me in those few times. I assume his room is down there too, but that's just a guess." Jenny replied, picturing the journey down the corridors in her mind and hoping she hadn't left anything important out. It was difficult to take in your surroundings when you were being dragged from room to room.

"What about the exit?" Ziva asked, encouraged by Jenny's knowledge of the building they were in.

"Both sides have an exit in case of attack, they are upstairs and guarded though, and the men spend most of their time outside during the day, so you would have to escape during the night when it's a skeleton crew." She said, remembering the conversations the men had indulged in when they stopped for a rest between beatings. Ziva realised she had heard similar things, she just hadn't taken it in, the pain had almost blocked out her surroundings. She shook her head at herself. She was slipping.

"But they lock the door to our cell." She stated to Jenny, slightly annoyed that they couldn't even decide to try and leave during the night since the men rarely dragged a woman from the cell at night time.

"Can you still pick a pocket? If I distract someone, you could take whatever you can from them and use it to open the door." Jenny enthused, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was just like old times, except they were both in such bad condition that they will most likely need to hold each other up. "Go to sleep now Ziva, you'll need the rest." Ziva nodded and closed her eyes, getting into a more comfortable position and then snuggling back up to Jenny. Soon they would be out of this place and back in civilisation. She could go to a doctor and call Gibbs and Tony, and then everything would sort itself out for the best. She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Gibbs waited in the darkness of MTAC, impatiently pacing while Leon talked to the tech about the transmission to Somalia. Apparently it was going to clash with the check in of an undercover team in Romania, who were tracking a serial killer and his girlfriend accomplice. They were on a killing safari over in Europe and now they were trying to make a name for themselves by hunting in the land of the famous literary vampire Dracula. It was imperative that the team check in so they know they are still alive, and Gibbs knew that, but it was going to set back finding out what that note said and that was unacceptable in his eyes. He needed to know; Tony needed to know.

His phone buzzed and he stopped in the middle of the floor and pulled it out, looking at the writing on the front that said he had a text message. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. He really should wear his glasses to read. He looked to his right to borrow Jenny's, when he suddenly remembered with a jolt of pain that she wasn't there anymore. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes against the agony that reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be. Thinking about Jenny so often in the last few hours had put her to the forefront of his mind, and he had momentarily forgotten that she was dead. It was the most natural thing in the world to borrow her things that he hadn't thought twice about the action.

"Alright, the connection to Somalia is ready, this better be quick Gibbs." Leon said, and Gibbs opened his eyes slowly, taking his time so it wouldn't look like Leon had just caught him in a moment of weakness. He walked closer to the screen and waited for it to come to life. The multicoloured lines disappeared and revealed Agents Hilliard and Briars, sitting and standing to attention respectively. Agent Hilliard held a shiny piece of paper in his hand, showing that he had taped it together.

"Agents Briars and Hilliard, thank you for your fast response." Leon said, nodding to both Agents politely.

"Director." They both said, nodding to him.

"Is that the note, Agent Hilliard?" Gibbs asked, pointing to the paper in the wheelchair bound Agents' hands.

"Yes sir. It's in Arabic so I had to get someone on base to translate it. It says; 'Ziva, this information is for your eyes only. We had reports of a small camp in the west that is responsible for random murders. We think they are terrorists.' The rest is an estimation of the group's numbers, which was very low, and then it ends with the initials E.D." Fred Hilliard reported, holding the note up to the screen to prove he wasn't keeping any information from them.

"When did Director David contact you?" he asked Leon again, the cogs grinding in his head. E.D.: Eli David. Obscure to the enemy, but not to those who knew of his familial relationships, who knew he was Ziva's father. Why would he send her to the camp on her own? Surely sending only one operative into a camp was not how they usually operated?

"Three and a half hours after Agent Hilliard was admitted to hospital." Leon said, showing he had researched that piece of information, expecting to be asked.

"How did he know…?" Gibbs said, not really meaning to verbalise the question. If Hilliard was just admitted, then taken into surgery, then given time to sleep off the drugs, they were looking at a seven or eight hour wait until he was conscious and able to tell anyone that he saw Ziva walk into the building where the bomb went off. So how could Director David have known Ziva was dead four hours before Fred was awake?

"Who know what?" Leon asked, confused, but Gibbs ignored him. He strode past him and out of MTAC, letting his eyes adjust to the light change. He shook his head at his thoughts and then remembered he had received a text message but hadn't read it yet. He sighed, pulled out his phone and looked at the message, noting that it was from Tony. _I'm taking McGee to Somalia. We're going to get revenge for Ziva._ It was short and to the point, and Gibbs' stomach dropped, shocked that they would do something so impulsive.

He groaned in annoyance and then closed his eyes against a wave of apprehension. They would get themselves killed over there. They didn't know anything about what had happened or where the camp had moved to. He knew more than they did and it was still not enough. He couldn't lose any more members of his team, his family. He called Tony's number. If his senior Agent was going to take McGee to Somalia for revenge, he wasn't going to let him go unprepared, and the best way to ensure that they were as informed as they could be, was to go with them, like it or not.

* * *

Ziva groaned and thrashed around in her sleep, the pain in her abdomen intensifying to such an extent that she began to gag once again. Jenny watched her young friend's agonised twisting with tears streaming down her face, and rolled the younger woman on to her side so she wouldn't choke to death on her own vomit. Ziva's health was deteriorating rapidly; she wasn't going to last much longer and there was nothing Jenny could do to help her. She took a steadying breath and attempted to get herself back under control, Ziva needed her to be strong, and crying was not going to help either of them.

The other women were watching her and Ziva with anxious eyes, aware that their only hope of freedom was getting weaker, her fever was escalating and even they knew that, in regards to the escape attempt, it was now or never. Ziva retched, arching forwards and spilling whatever was in her stomach onto the floor, though it was mostly blood, and their spirits began to fall back in to depression. She was going to die, she was too weak to escape now, and nothing in their lives was going to change, at least not for the better.

The sound of footsteps out in the corridor alerted the women to the danger walking towards them. This was their chance, but Ziva wasn't even conscious. Jenny shook her gently at first, then with more urgency, but the young Israeli woman stayed unaware of what was happening in the waking world. The key turned in the lock and Jenny moved forwards, the other women mimicking her, hoping to shield Ziva from view so their only hope for freedom wouldn't be crippled even more. They need not have worried.

The door was thrown open and two men walked in, one staying by the door, their guns trained on the hostile women, not taking any chances of being overpowered by the women's sheer weight of numbers, and walked towards Ziva and Jenny. When the women didn't move, they made a point of arming their weapons and pointing them at their faces, so they reluctantly parted before them. Jenny nodded to the others, letting them know that she knew there was nothing they could do, but she wasn't going to move, they wouldn't take Ziva away from her without a fight.

Then they reached down and grabbed, not Ziva, but the startled Jenny, dragging her away from Ziva's prone form and out of the room. Their superior strength was too much for her, and she could hardly even wriggle effectively, her wasted limbs not helping her to resist, but she did manage to dislodge something metallic looking from the belt of the one dragging her, and she could only hope that he didn't notice and retrieve it. The man at the door waited until the other men were through it before lowering his weapon and closing the door, locking it and walking after them. Jenny calmed herself, she had endured almost a year of this; she could survive just one more time. She hoped.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to Huddly, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, MissJayne, LyssLovesTiva33, Hiphuggers2, Georgia-NCIS-Peach and Grande for reviewing!

Tony drove quickly through the darkened streets towards NCIS, his thoughts no longer a jumble of pain, they were a single thought of purpose; revenge. Ziva would do the same for any teammate of hers, he knew that, he even knew that Gibbs would take retribution on the one responsible; he had proven it many times, so he had nothing to fear from his colleagues. Not that he was scared, he wasn't, he knew what he needed to do and he knew that his friends would help him, but he was slightly apprehensive about failing. What if he found the one who killed Ziva but this guy killed him before he could take his revenge? Would McGee or Gibbs take up the mission once he was dead? Revenge for Ziva and him? He sighed and pulled into the NCIS car park.

He parked his car and bolted from the car park into the main building, walking through the front door and towards the elevator. He pressed the call button and then waited for the doors to open. They did almost at once and he stepped inside and pressed the button for Abby's lab, knowing that McGee would be there with her, trying to calm the hyper young Goth. Oh Abby, she felt everything so intensely. The deaths of Kate and Jenny had both hit her hard, it had taken quite a while for her to recover, and now Ziva was gone… it was too much loss for the bubbly girl to endure. He shook his head to drag himself from his misery and order his thoughts, but it didn't seem to work very well.

Throughout the entire ride to Abby's lab he was engrossed in the unforgettable moments he's had with all three women; the time Kate had looked at him in absolute relief after his time undercover chained to the unremarkable Jeffrey, who had turned out to be a murderer, had almost ended in his death. He thought about the time in Jenny's office when she had offered him a promotion for all of his hard work as team leader while Gibbs had been in Mexico, and then told him she was proud of him for turning it down. Then he remembered the time Ziva and he had been stuck in that damned metal box, being shot at, a few crates of foreign DVD's the only shield they'd had from the flying bullets, those few hours bringing them closer than the mission they had undertaken as husband and wife.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out, walking towards the door to Abby's lab and stopping still in his tracks when he heard the unmistakable sound of Abby's tears and McGee telling her that it would be ok. His eyes closed tightly and he balled his hands into fists, the agony rearing its ugly head, and quick on its heels came the self-doubt. He couldn't do this, what was he thinking trying to drag McGee to Somalia with him? They would both probably be killed, and think of what Abby would be feeling then. She would be inconsolable, and only Gibbs, Ducky and Jimmy would remain of the team, the only ones to attempt to comfort her. He was being unbelievably selfish. If he wanted to die, he should just put his gun in his mouth and-

He swiftly brought his hand up and then down, slapping the back of his own head hard, the stinging pain ending his fatalistic thoughts and bringing a moment of clarity to his emotion laden mind. He didn't want to die, at least not yet. He wanted, no needed, to get revenge on the one that had killed Ziva, and to do that he would need help. McGee needed to only point him in the direction of the murderer, he didn't even need to put himself in danger at all, and Tony wouldn't make him. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and strode into the lab, his pace slowing again when two tearstained faces turned to look at him.

"Tony!" Abby cried and opened her arms, flinging herself at him and latching onto him in a soft embrace, in total counterpoint to her usual hugs. It showed how unhappy she really was and Tony's heart broke a little more to know that she was undergoing such suffering.

"Hey Abs." he said softly, squeezing her gently back and meeting McGee's eyes over her shoulder. Tim nodded, understanding that he needed to speak to him, but not in front of Abby. McGee touched her shoulder and spoke to her, his voice too low for Tony to hear, but then he didn't want to know. Whatever was going on between them was their business; he just hoped that he would be able to keep McGee safe if he agreed to this request. Tim walked out of the lab, waiting by the elevator and Tony pulled back from the hug.

"I'm sorry Tony. This must be awful for you and I just go and cry all over you." she said distractedly beginning one of her rambling speeches that she always embarked upon in awkward situations. Tony shook his head and tried to cut her off before she built up steam.

"Its fine Abs-" he began, but she forged ahead, unheeding of his response to her words.

"I know that she meant more to you than she did to me but-" she rambled on, her hands now moving between them as she began to unconsciously sign some of what she was saying to him, her distress rising.

"Abby!" he said louder, hoping that shouting with such a short distance between them would startle her into letting him get a word in edgeways, but she carried on, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"She was still my friend, a good friend." She said and Tony tried something new. He pulled her back into his arms, holding her tight in his embrace. She cut off mid sentence and buried her face in his chest, sobbing, the sound making McGee pop his head back around the door, concern written clearly all over his features. Tony shook his head and McGee disappeared back around the doorframe, giving him the time to help her get herself back under control. She sniffled and he held her at arm's length, looking into her eyes with a kind smile on his face. She took a deep, shuddering breath and then waited for him to speak, knowing he would.

"Abby it's okay; you don't need to be upset about crying on me." He looked around, exaggerating the movement, and then leaned closer as if he was about to share a secret with her. "I've cried on myself enough today to not mind that my suit is ruined." He stage whispered, a smile playing on his lips to show he really wasn't mad. She gave a watery laugh at his reference to his expensive suit addiction, and then wiped her eyes.

"Well I'm still sorry about crying on you, you'd think I'd have gotten it all out of my system on Timmy's shirt." She said laughing, pulling a tissue from a box and wiping her nose. Her smile fell almost immediately, but she bravely faked another, spinning around and clasping her hands together. "So, what can I do for you Tony?" she asked, all business once more.

"I'm not here for evidence or anything; I just came down to see how you are doing, and to speak with McGeek out there." He added, with his usual mockery of Tim's last name. Abby shook her head fondly at him and hugged him again, this time it was considerably harder and shorter, the squeeze nearly taking out his spinal column.

"I'm fine Tony. Well not fine, but as well as I can be. I can't believe we weren't invited to the funeral." she added irately, crossing her arms in offense. With Kate and Jenny they had gone to the funeral and found a little bit of closure, but not with Ziva, that option wasn't even offered to them.

"Technically we weren't even told she was dead Abby." Tony reminded her, anger sprouting in his chest once more, the need to get underway with McGee to Somalia overwhelming.

"Have you seen Gibbs yet?" she asked archly, and Tony felt the guilt bubble up in his gut. His last words to his boss were not the kindest he could have uttered, in fact they had been downright vicious, and understandably he was cautious about seeing the older man again. At the time he had been saying what he was feeling, but now he could see how heartless his tirade had been. He hadn't been able to understand how Gibbs could ask him to remember Ziva as she lived, when he never did the same himself. But he had crossed the line by belittling Gibbs' bond with Jenny, and the words Gibbs had said back to him had violently hit their mark.

It was his fault that Jenny was dead; he couldn't bring himself to let Ziva take any part of the blame for that. She had been all set to find her, but he had pulled seniority and stopped her. Jenny's death was his fault and he would live with it for the rest of his days, having to look across the bullpen at Gibbs, knowing that his boss was hurting because of his actions, or rather, his inactions.

"No, not yet." He said softly, and Abby looked at him knowingly, lowering her eyes from him to her feet.

"You know he didn't mean to lash out like that, right?" Abby asked softly, her expression one of careful hope and understanding, as if she was trying to mediate an argument between two stubborn children.

"It's what he was thinking though, what he's been thinking this entire time, and the thing is; he's right. I got Jenny killed, it's my fault she's dead." He held up a hand to ward off her placations. "I'm not wallowing in self pity or taking on guilt that isn't deserved. _I_ ignored the signs around me, Ziva didn't, she saw them, she wanted to go after Jenny, but _I_ wouldn't let her. If I had just swallowed my pride and gone after her, she wouldn't be dead right now, and neither would Ziva." He said, looking out the window at the darkened street just above their heads.

"Tony, you can't know that." Abby said, her tone one of disbelief and a little distress.

"I can because it's the truth. If Jenny had survived the shootout at the diner, do you really think she would have sent Ziva back to Tel-Aviv, even as a ploy to flush out a mole? Would she have sent her back to her father, so he could take notice of her and want her back in Mossad again? No. If Jenny had survived, so would Ziva." He said, a touch of finality in his voice, and Abby just shook her head sat him sadly, knowing it was useless to argue with him. The thing was, it made sense.

"Well I've got to talk to McGee so, I'll see you later." Tony said as he retreated towards the door walking through it almost before she could utter her response, the one word floating out of the lab to him in distress.

"Yeah."

McGee watched him carefully when he rounded the doorframe and Tony knew he had heard everything. He didn't let it bother him though, everyone else would have come to that conclusion already, it was just Abby that would see the good in him and ignore the signs that screamed his guilt. He walked past him and then motioned over his shoulder for the younger man to follow him into the elevator. He did and once the doors closed he flicked the emergency stop switch to give them some privacy. McGee watched him, waiting for him to start speaking, knowing that he would start the conversation when he was ready.

"I'm going to Somalia. I need to find the guy that killed her, and I need your help." McGee opened his mouth to speak but Tony held up a hand to stop him. "I don't need you to come with me, I wouldn't put you in that kind of danger, and this _will_ be dangerous. I just need you to find out as much as you can about what happened to her, and then relay it to me so I can find this person fast, and put him out of his misery." He said emphatically, watching his friend mull over his words with a half smile on his face.

"Tony, do you really think I would let you go to Somalia without back-up? I'm going with you, and I'll help you while I'm there. She meant a lot to me too." McGee said, throwing in his lot in to the misguided quest for revenge on someone they knew absolutely nothing about. Tony nodded gratefully and then dropped the next bombshell.

"If we are going to do this, we are going to have to leave tonight. If not right now." he said, cringing internally at the thought that McGee would retract his earlier statement in light of this new information, but Tim just nodded thoughtfully.

"I can throw a bag together in ten minutes and look for flights on the way to the airport. I'll just hack the system and look for cancellations." He said, thinking ahead. Tony found himself smiling as it became even more apparent that McGee wasn't going to pull out of the mission. He had misjudged the young computer geek severely, and he now knew that the stereotypical view he had of him needed some serious revising.

"Well all right. I'll just send the boss a text, which he will hopefully not even attempt to read until we are out of the country, and then we can go." Tony said, pulling out his phone, writing a text message and then sending it to Gibbs once he had finished. He then flicked the emergency stop back off, letting the elevator take them up to the ground floor. They walked back to Tony's car and got in, pulling out of the car park and setting off for Tim's apartment. The drive to McGee's place was a quiet one, neither wanting to break the silence until they absolutely had to. They pulled up outside his home and Tim got out, waiting for Tony to join him.

"You go ahead and do what you need to, I'll wait here." Tony said, not looking at the younger Agent, even as he walked in to his apartment. Tony sighed, what was he doing? He should just drive away and phone McGee when he was in Somalia for information. He was going to get his friend killed and the guilt would be unbearable if that happened. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and he closed his eyes in concentration. McGee wouldn't mind being left behind would he? He would be relieved if it turned out to be a suicide mission, so would Abby and the rest of the NCIS family. He should just start the car back up and drive-

Tony's eyes snapped open as the car door opened and McGee swiftly entered the car, throwing a couple of bags over the seat into the back, keeping his laptop on his knee. He gave Tony a look that told him he'd known what he was contemplating and that he wasn't amused, and then he buckled in and switched on his notebook. Tony looked away in embarrassment and guilt and started the car, pulling away from McGee's house and driving to the airport in Dulles. He cast a glance at the bags Tim had brought with him and decided to break the awkwardness in the car by remarking upon his mass of luggage, hoping it would be enough to stop his friend from watching him like he was about to pull an ejector seat.

"How much luggage do you need, McWoman?" he teased softly.

"It's for both of us. I noticed you hadn't packed anything and didn't want to have to walk around Somalia with you, two weeks from now, in the same clothes you're currently wearing." He replied, and then looked up from his laptop at Tony, a small smile on his face. "The stink would give us away." He then looked back down at his computer and Tony stared ahead at the road, a laugh bubbling up before he could stop it.

"Damn, when did you grow a pair, McGee?" Tony grinned widely at his friend and McGee suppressed a smile and shook his head in response.

"Just because I'm not confrontational or feel the need to ridicule my peers, doesn't mean I don't have balls, Tony. I'm an observer for the most part and that works in my favour a lot of the time. I see things that go on around us that you don't." he said, looking back at Tony to emphasise his words.

"Oh yeah? Name one." Tony scoffed.

"When you were dating Jeanne, Ziva tried her best to be happy for you, to help you learn to be a real man-" McGee said, and Tony felt his anger build at the reminder of when his heart had been hurt back then.

"Hey, what do you mean a real-?" he tried to cut McGee off with an indignant question, but Tim ignored him and carried on anyway.

"-even though it hurt her to see you dote over another woman. In a way, Jenny did you a favour by having you date Jeanne." He concluded and Tony had to grip the steering wheel to stop himself from lashing out at his friend. How could he say that after what he had gone through? Yes he realised now that what he had felt hadn't really been heart break, it had been guilt, but at the time the pain had been real.

"How do you figure that, McGee?" he asked through clenched teeth, making Tim look up at him with kind eyes and an understanding smile, which just made Tony angrier. Why did everyone seem to understand him today?

"Before Jeanne, Ziva saw you as a playboy, a sex object, someone who she couldn't take seriously in a romantic sense. Then you started dating Jeanne, and you showed a level of maturity that none of us expected from you. It opened her eyes to her feelings for you." McGee explained as kindly as possible and Tony clenched his jaw, letting the truth of Tim's words wash over him. Jenny really had done him a favour, but not by design.

He knew he was to blame for it ending between him and Jeanne the way it had, he should have told Jenny he was getting too involved, but the opportunity never presented itself, and the slide into love had been so gradual he hadn't noticed when he had stopped pretending and really felt it. Jenny should have asked though, she should have checked up on him every few days, but she had left him to it. Had she trusted him enough to feel he knew what he was doing? Or had she not cared as long as it led her to La Grenouille?

"Are you a secret marriage councillor McGee?" he asked, his voice strained in guilt and sadness. McGee shook his head.

"If I was, Jenny wouldn't have died alone. Gibbs would have gone with her." Tim said desolately, his own guilt at something that somehow, in his mind, made her death his fault apparent in his tone. The car became quiet as they each mulled over what the other had said and then after a few minutes they turned to each other.

"It wasn't your fault." They said in unison, smiling sadly and shaking their heads at each other.

"Yeah well, since neither of us believes that, let's not waste our breath saying it to each other again." Tony said and next to him Tim nodded.

"Agreed." He said and then pulled up the Dulles flight schedule to Somalia. "We're in luck, a family of four cancelled an hour ago, four seats are available on the flight that leaves in-" he checked his computer clock and then calculated the time until departure. "-an hour." In response Tony floored the accelerator and they sped up, driving fast down the deserted streets. They arrived at the airport in ten minutes and then used their badges to rush to the check in desk.

"Hi, we need to get on the flight to Somalia that leaves in about fifty minutes." Tony said urgently, flashing his badge to the desk clerk, and she smiled at him.

"I'll have a look for cancellations…" she said, typing away on her computer, and then she looked back up at them with a relieved smile, knowing that federal agents can be difficult if flashing their badges doesn't work for them. "Ok there are four, and you need how many seats?" she asked, hoping that they didn't have backup waiting in a car or something.

"Two." McGee replied.

"Three." A voice said over his shoulder and both he and Tony froze and then turned slowly around, seeing Gibbs striding towards them. "I thought I taught you two better than to rush off to a foreign country without Intel." He said when he stopped beside them, handing the desk clerk the money he had and waiting for his two Agents to respond, to either him or the clerks request for payment.

"That's why I brought McGee, boss." Tony said quietly, handing the money to the clerk, McGee following suit, and then turning to look anywhere but Gibbs' face. He couldn't bear the thought of the accusing gaze that would be directed his way if he looked at him.

"Well we've got about half an hour to exchange plans and information before boarding. Coffee?" Gibbs asked, walking away with his ticket towards the airport Starbucks, Tony and Tim following quickly behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to LyssLovesTiva33, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, MissJayne,Hiphuggers2, Grande, jstapny and Georgia-NCIS-Peach for reviewing.

Gibbs strode across the length of the lobby towards the airport Starbucks, the location of which he knew from experience, his two headstrong Agents trailing along behind him. He weaved through the tables, chairs and customers towards the counter, not looking behind him at DiNozzo or McGee, but knowing that they were still following him regardless. They were doing their own walk of shame at being caught, and under different circumstances he wouldn't hesitate to crack a smile at their defeated expressions, but this was serious.

He had made it just in time, any later and he would have missed them, and he hadn't fancied the thought of scouring the airport looking for them. He mentally shook his head at them as he walked, thinking of how close they had gotten to going to Somalia alone. They were lucky he had driven like a maniac to get here in time or they'd be walking into a potential trap. The questions about Ziva's death had not yet all been answered, but there was a strong possibility that they were _meant_ to follow after her, and the fact his agents had almost done exactly that worried him.

DiNozzo hadn't looked at him since he had realised it was him speaking to them, and that worried him slightly. He didn't blame DiNozzo for what he had said, that had been forgiven the moment he had uttered it, he just hoped Tony didn't ask for his forgiveness over Jenny's death because that was something he couldn't do again. When he had absolved Tony and Ziva of their guilt the first time, it had because the fact Jenny was dead hadn't really penetrated his mind. Sure they had _said_ she was dead, but where was the evidence? Now though he knew different, and he couldn't say he didn't blame Tony when it really _was_ his fault.

He ordered coffee for himself and his Agents and then stood to the side to wait for it, telling Tony and Tim to find a table for them. They wandered off and procured one in an out of the way location, and sat down to wait for Gibbs and the coffee to arrive. Jethro picked up all three cups once they appeared and then walked over to them, making a pit stop at the additives stand, and sat down sharing out the drinks and dropping seven or eight sugar sachets next to Tony. DiNozzo made a grateful noise and started to pour all of the sugar into his coffee, staring at the Styrofoam cup like it had the answers to all of his problems. McGee watched Gibbs, waiting for him to speak, but he sat back waiting for them to spill all before he told them what he knew. McGee lasted one sip of coffee before breaking the silence.

"Boss, we know that we should have asked for time off first, but it was kind of a spur of the moment decision-" he began, but Tony cut him off before he could explain everything like they had done something wrong or worse, apologise. It was Tony's idea, so he would tell Gibbs what they were thinking.

"I need to find the guy that killed her, but over the last two weeks that she has been dead, the guy has had more than enough time to get away. He's had a big head start but we will find him and I know you'd do the same so spare us the disappointed act." Tony spat, taking his temper out on Gibbs, who just let it slide, knowing he would try to apologise after all of this was over.

"I'm not disappointed DiNozzo, I'm just surprised at your recklessness." Gibbs said to him, watching his senior Agents expression carefully, to get a better handle on how he was doing emotionally. By the sudden flare of anger, he guessed he wasn't doing very well.

"Recklessness? We aren't going in blind; McGee has his laptop and can hack into whatever we need and we are both trained investigators. There are some NCIS Agents stationed out there, so we can start out for them as soon as we land and we can start our investigation there." Tony said irately, showing how well he had actually thought this mission through. Gibbs nodded thinking that at least they weren't just running into the thick of it, half-cocked and with no prior planning or intelligence. They had been prepared to find answers before going straight for revenge, perhaps they could do this alone, but he wasn't prepared to find out.

"I see. You have it all figured out. So why do you think I'm here?" Gibbs asked archly and both Tony and McGee's expressions turned blank, before curiosity appeared and they unconsciously leaned forward. Gibbs smiled slightly and decided to tell them just enough to get their attention, rather than revealing all, in case they decided to run away on their own. "I have the Intel now, that you would have to try and find later, and I know that you won't get all of it on your own." He said, and the two Agents' eyes widened in surprise.

"What Intel?" McGee asked eagerly, but Gibbs looked down at his coffee and then took a long drink before saying anything to either of them. McGee was almost on the edge of his seat by the time he replied.

"Are you going to try and ditch me as soon as we land?" he asked them, watching them carefully so he could tell if they were lying.

"No boss." McGee answered right away, offended that he would think that of them, but Tony stayed silent for a few moments longer before finally agreeing with McGee.

"No." he said unconvincingly, but something in his expression told Gibbs that he wouldn't try to go it alone; he knew that he had a better chance of success with back up, than without it. Gibbs nodded, satisfied and then leaned forwards himself, so no passersby could overhear their conversation and then recounted everything he had found out from Vance and Hilliard, along with some of his suspicions. The conversation didn't take long, but they still ended up running to board their flight in time.

They sat together on the plane and brooded in silence over what Gibbs had told them, while Jethro himself watched Tony carefully. He hadn't taken what he had said very well, and he could only hope he didn't march into Mossad headquarters and start throwing around accusations. It would be a short-lived investigation if he gave the game away due to his grief. Jethro settled back and watched the planes progress out of his window, the lights from the jet giving an ethereal beauty to the usually ominous cloud cover.

Why was it always the women that got killed around him? Kate, Paula, Jenny and now Ziva… why did they have to be so goddamned self-sacrificing? He closed his eyes for a moment and then shook himself, scolding himself for wallowing in self pity. He was here for his team and he was going to make sure they all came back alive. He wouldn't be able to bear having to tell Abby and Ducky that they had lost DiNozzo and McGee as well. By the time the plane landed at its destination Jethro was once again his imperturbable self, and he led the way to the place where they would start their investigation; the scene of Ziva's death.

* * *

Ziva faded in and out of consciousness, her fever reaching a dangerous high. She understood what was happening to her in the back of her mind, but she was unable to do anything to help herself, or stop the random words that left her mouth in the various languages that she knew. Things were getting much worse for her, and her abdomen was now permanently aching, no matter how she was laid. She was running out of time.

One thing disturbed her more than this knowledge, however, and that was that she was getting cold because no one was laying with her, and that meant Jenny was no longer in the room with her. Where was she? She knew that Jenny wouldn't leave her side by choice, but the alternative was too worrying to contemplate. Their hastily made plans were already coming undone at the seams, and a wave of depression washed over her, making her slip further into a comforting numbness. She tried to panic, she didn't want to give up but her body was betraying her, and she began to feel her will to survive slipping away.

A violent shake and then a persistent sting in her cheek gave her the strength to break away from the numbness and climb towards consciousness, and when she finally opened her eyes she saw a group of the women crowding around her, their eyes alight with fear. She shook off the remaining tendrils of sleep and looked around, confirming her fear that Jenny was not there. The rest of the women were by the door, listening for footsteps, but their attention was mostly on her.

"_Where is Jenny?_" Ziva asked them in Arabic, and she watched the women exchange significant glances, her dread growing. They finally looked away from each other and turned their eyes to her with pitying glances, and one of them, the oldest woman among them, answered her question as gently as she could.

"_She was taken a few hours ago._" She said, helping Ziva in to a sitting position. "_I am Mira. It is almost midnight, Ziva; we need to leave here soon._" she said, identifying herself for the first time. In fact this was the only time, that Ziva could recall, when the other women had actually spoken to her, which was strange but understandable. They had more than likely believed she would die very soon so they were protecting themselves by not becoming attached to her.

"_Mira,_ _we need to wait for them to bring Jenny back, and then we can make our escape._" Ziva said firmly. Jenny had taken care of her from the moment she had been thrown in this cell, and Ziva felt her absence more keenly now than when she and Tony had discovered her bloody body in that abandoned diner. She wouldn't abandon her.

"_No, she will not be brought back here and you are getting weaker. We cannot wait, if we do we will lose this opportunity, and we do not wish to die here._" Mira said, shaking her head sadly and then gesturing around to the other women. Ziva's eyes narrowed guardedly and she glared at Mira, picking up on her carefully chosen words.

"_What do you mean 'she will not be brought back here'? They bring everyone else back._" Ziva said, stubbornly refusing to heed the message in the eyes of those around her.

"_They only bring back the living and she is too weak to survive_." Mira said evenly and immediately Ziva felt the stirrings of anger at her casual disregard of Jenny's life.

"_You do not know that, she is stronger than you think._" Ziva snapped at her, but the woman just shook her head calmly at her, knowing that she was just denying what she already knew to be true.

"_No she is not; she was just strong for _**you**_. The past year has been hard on us all, and we have watched many die here. She was the next to go, but your appearance seemed to boost her health, until you were dragged away, and she showed us she was just pretending._" The woman said, almost apologetically and Ziva found herself weakly shaking her head, not allowing herself to believe that Jenny was going to die as soon as she had found her, before she could try to save her again.

"_That is not true._" She said, obstinately refusing to believe their words, even though they made a certain amount of sense. Jenny had been too weak to hold her away from the men, pulling her into her arms was an effort and she had been so thin… Ziva shook her head, dispelling the morbid thoughts that were creeping up on her. She just knew that Jenny was still alive, she could feel it. How long for was another thing entirely, but they were bound to bring her back here. She would just wait for that to happen.

"_It is, and you know it. She is dead, or very soon will be, but we can live._" The woman said, reaching out to hold one of Ziva's hands in her own, pleading with her to understand what she was saying, but Ziva jerked away, her expression turning from denial to horror.

"_How can you say that?_" Ziva demanded, disgusted with what the woman was saying to her. Did she really believe that she would abandon her friend to the torment the men would inflict upon her if they managed to escape? Well she wasn't going to do it, she would save Jenny this time, and she would save them all.

"_I do not say it lightly; we have bonded with each other strongly over our time together and leaving her is painful, but sacrifices must be made to save our children._" The woman spat out, her voice giving away how much she didn't want to leave her here either, but the lives of their children had to come first. Jenny was so weak that she would probably have slowed them down, but then the same could be said for most of these women.

Ziva nodded slowly, her mind working over how long they could potentially keep Jenny, and then she had to fight to keep her face straight. They had never kept any woman for longer than six hours, so Jenny was due back in the next few hours. She could stall the escape for that long; it would more than likely go better if they waited a little longer anyway.

"_Very well, but I will need something to pick the lock with._" She said in an attempt to make the wait seem more essential, but her hopes were dashed when one of the women produced a long thin piece of metal and handed it to her.

"_Jenny managed to dislodge this for you as she was dragged away._" The woman said, and Ziva felt her heart sink. She had what she needed to start the escape now; the only thing left to work out now was timing. She looked around her at the dirty, hopeful faces and she felt her chances of saving Jenny slipping away. She swallowed hard and then closed her eyes, nodding slowly to them, unable to look at them while she committed to putting their lives over her doomed friends'.

"_Then get yourselves ready, we will move tonight, with or without her._" she said, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke the words that may very well lead to the end of Jenny's life.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to LyssLovesTiva33, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, BritMonkey, Hiphuggers2, Pixie-Galaxy-Dust, jstapny, Georgia-NCIS-Peach and MissJayne for reviewing!

Jethro drove the car along the invisible road, relying on his sense of direction and McGee's shouted directions as the young computer tech kept track of their position from his laptop. The desert heat was stifling during the day, but since the sun was no longer in the sky, and hadn't been when they had landed in Somalia, all of the heat had disappeared, leaving behind a numbing cold so harsh, the occupants of the off road car were huddled as close as possible, unsure whether they wished it was hot instead.

The fan from McGee's laptop randomly switched on and a small burst of hot air would rush over them for a few seconds, but the cold had made it easier for the small computer to keep cool so this relief was short and very intermittent. The cars headlights showed an endless view of sand, sand and more sand, so if it wasn't for McGee's assurances they were getting closer to their destination, they would have assumed they weren't going anywhere.

Tony had taken to tapping random tunes on the dash board and Gibbs nerves were so frayed he was _sooo_ close to slamming the butt of his gun on the younger mans fingers. The images that that brought to mind made a small smile appear on his face, and he was actually tempted to see how well Tony could make such an annoying noise with broken fingers. As if he could hear his thoughts, the tapping stopped and Tony stared out of the window instead, wallowing in his own personal thoughts and reasons behind why he was here.

"The outpost that Agent Hilliard mentioned is just up ahead boss." McGee reported. "We should be seeing it in…" he saw the young Agent look at the speedometer on the dashboard and then he yelled to Gibbs, his voice suddenly a higher pitch then it had been in years as he read 90. "NOW BOSS!" The brakes screeched as Gibbs floored the break peddle, the tires spinning for a few moments as the vehicle lost its traction on the sand and then the car came to a sudden and ungainly stop, the headlights highlighting the wall of a building barely five inches from the front bumper.

Tony turned his terrified gaze to Gibbs, who smirked back, like he had known the wall was there and just decided to make a more dramatic stop. McGee dropped his head back on the seat, fumbled for the door release and then stumbled out of the car, hurling his hastily consumed meal onto the ground. Jethro left the headlights on, deciding that it might be a bad idea to turn them off in the pitch black desert and rummaged in the glove compartment of the rental for the flashlights he had purchased. He turned them all on, checking the brightness and then handed them out, Tony insisting upon taking two in case he dropped one.

"In the movies, they always break their only source of light and then something stalks them in the darkness and-" a head slap cut off the rest of his rant and he turned to Gibbs a little angrily. The act of normalcy was for McGee's benefit, but the slap still stung. He turned away and walked towards the building that Agent Hilliard said he'd seen Ziva enter and Gibbs watched him duck inside, dodging the rubble and carefully making sure the walls didn't collapse on him. Jethro sighed, this wasn't easy for any of them, but he knew it was worse for Tony, who was sure he was now treading upon the ground where his Ziva had died.

* * *

Tony narrowed his eyes in annoyance, at both Gibbs and himself. He hadn't meant to glare like that, he knew that it was what would normally have happened when he tried to scare the probie, but for some reason it had hurt more than usual. It was almost like he was taking the opportunity to strike him because of his comments about Jenny back at headquarters, but he knew that it was just his own guilt over what he had said that was telling him that.

He shook his head and scoured the broken room for whatever he could find, hoping to see what had killed Ziva, or to find some trace of the person that had killed her, but there was nothing, not even blood. He stopped at that thought and then made his way outside, calling for McGee as soon as he was close to the younger Agent. McGee appeared quickly by his side and Tony asked him the question that was preying on his mind.

"When did it rain last, probie?" he asked as soon as McGee opened his mouth to ask what was wrong. Tim thought about the question for a few seconds and then answered.

"Erm, about four months ago. Rainy season has been and gone, why?" he asked back, and Tony shook his head distractedly, a bizarre surge of giddy hope bursting in his chest.

"Well when someone gets blown up, you expect some sort of blood loss, don't you?" he said, turning to McGee, his eyes alight.

"Yeah…" Tim answered carefully, nodding, but Tony carried on talking almost as if he hadn't heard him.

"And since there has been no rain for months, that blood would still be on the ground, right?" he asked and once again McGee nodded while answering.

"Yeah."

"So why is the ground in that building clean? No blood at all?" he asked, gesturing to the derelict building that had been a serviceable home until two weeks ago.

"Erm…" McGee trailed off, now getting where Tony was heading with his questions, and not liking it at all.

"Exactly probie, because no one was blown up in there!" Tony concluded elatedly, and McGee sighed, his expression turning from one of confusion to understanding and pity. This was something he wasn't used to dealing with, and the fact it was Tony that was saying it made it harder to say, but he had to do it.

"Tony, she could have gotten further in and died. How else do you explain the fact her own father pronounced her dead?" he asked, hoping to sober up Tony's wandering hopefulness.

"All he might have seen is a badly burnt or dismembered body; it might not have been Ziva." He denied forcefully, but McGee could see the cracks in his logic were bringing him back to his senses, and he decided to press his advantage.

"Then where is she? Why hasn't she contacted us?" he asked lowly, gently, and Tony's head dropped down, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he struggled to answer.

"I…" he tried, but nothing more came out, and McGee put a reassuring hand on Tony's shoulder.

"Tony, she's not coming back." he reminded him softly, hating the pain that flitted across his friend's eyes as he admitted to himself that McGee was right.

Tony nodded and walked dejectedly away, his torch lighting the ground as he walked, not caring where he ended up. He knew she was dead, but the hope that had surged through him at the thought that there was no blood on the ground had temporarily blinded him to reality, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, he had believed that she was still alive, waiting for him to find her, waiting for the right time to reveal her presence to him. She wasn't though, and that would never happen.

He walked on and on, unaware of how far away from the bombsite he was getting until he stepped on something, which gave a crunching tinkle under his weight and he froze. Shit, he was standing on a landmine. He closed his eyes and counted to ten in an attempt to bring down his heart rate before opening them again. He chanced a look at his foot, panic trickling down his spine and then he let out a relieved breath. It wasn't a mine, it was gold. He removed his foot from it and bent down, lifting the gold object from the sand, shining his torch on it, a look of disbelief appearing on his face. It was Ziva's Star of David necklace.

Tony stood up and looked behind him, shocked to see that the headlights of the car they had driven here in were specks in the distance, knowing that there was no way the blast had flung this here intact, with no blood marring the golden links. Someone had dropped it here, most likely on purpose, and there was only one person he could think of with the drive or access to do so. He pulled out his phone and dialled Gibbs' number.

"Hey boss? I think you might want to come to where I am. I just found something and I don't want to move away." He said and he heard Gibbs' patient intake of breath down the line. McGee obviously wasn't the only one who thought he was crazy for his hope, but even they wouldn't be able to help it when they saw this.

"What are you talking about DiNozzo? Where are you?" Gibbs asked, and Tony looked around, knowing that directions were out of the question.

"Follow my light, boss." He said cheekily, waving the torch around so he was easier to spot, and he put the phone down, not wanting to hear Gibbs ordering him to walk back instead. If he doesn't hear the orders, he doesn't have to follow them. The car began to approach him and he smiled, turning around in the direction he had been walking and searching the blackness for any sign of light or life. He knew she was out there, and he would find her. The car stopped behind him, bathing him in light and then Gibbs and McGee jumped out of it, walking to either side of him and stopping to stare at what he held in his hand.

"Are there any other settlements around here McGee? In this direction?" Tony asked, pointing ahead of them purposefully, the hopeful expression from earlier once again evident on his face. McGee looked at Gibbs, who nodded and then he went to get his laptop.

"Hang on…" he said when he reappeared with it moments later, and he tapped away on his laptop for a few moments and then lifted his eyes to Gibbs' and then to Tony's. "There _is_ another abandoned settlement about five clicks that in that direction. The occupants were driven out months ago." He reported uneasily, the coincidence of Tony knowing where a settlement is after finding Ziva's necklace in the middle of nowhere was too hard to ignore.

"Then that's where we are going." Gibbs said, turning around and jumping back in the car, the other two Agents following suit quickly.

* * *

Jenny gritted her teeth in an attempt to stifle yet another cry of pain, but the dagger was moving so slowly and the fire was burning so hotly that she couldn't stop the keening wail that escaped her. It echoed around the small, oppressively hot chamber, sparking up the chuckles of the men that were in there with her, the one who kept the blades hot and the one that used the instruments to cause her pain. They didn't make the dagger red hot, because the last thing they wanted to do was cauterise the wounds they inflicted, they wanted them to bleed, so that the victim could feel their life slipping away, one drop at a time.

They hardly ever used invasive torture, preferring instead to beat information from their victims, and the conditions the prisoners were kept in were so bad that any open wounds got infected and the prisoner usually died, so the fact that the outside of her left thigh was currently being pierced by the heated blade of a small dagger meant they didn't intend to keep her any longer. They were tired of her resistance, her continued existence taunted them, their intention to break her, to show they could do what the better cell couldn't, had backfired on them and now they were ridding themselves of the indignity she represented.

The blade was drawn agonisingly slowly down to just above her knee using only the tip of the dagger, and every few seconds they wiggled the blade, causing an explosion of pain. Jenny wasn't sure at what point the tears began to flow, because the heat and pain caused her entire body to be sheathed in sweat as it convulsed, but she felt the droplets run from her eyes, which had stopped focussing on anything around her hours ago. The blade was finally pulled out of her leg and she heard them swapping weapons, the cold one for a hot one and it began again.

Jenny swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut as a sudden pressure on her abdomen appeared, and she waited for the heated dagger to pierce her skin there, preparing her body for the agony, but then just as she thought it was about to enter her, it disappeared. She winced; knowing that they were toying with her and refusing to rise to the bait, but she was unable to stop herself from screaming as the blade cut sharply into the delicate skin of the arch of her foot, and her eyes snapped open and she struggled to draw in a stunned gasp.

She wished she was dead, but not enough to actually let her grip on her body slip away. She wanted to escape, she wanted to help Ziva get the others out and get them all to the nearest hospital. She wanted to go home, but now she knew that was no longer an option for her. Ziva would find her own way out, she was resourceful and cunning. She wouldn't waste this opportunity by coming to look for her; she would get the women to safety and then call the necessary authorities to have this cell permanently dispatched.

Her eyes fluttered closed, too heavy to keep open for much longer, and she felt the almost pleasant sensation of all her pain slipping away. Aware of what was happening to her, she tried to shake herself from the slide into unconsciousness and death, but the effort involved was too much. The dagger pierced her skin once again, but this time she barely flinched at the agony, the haziness pulling her deeper until the sounds that met her ears appeared to be echoing whispers, like they were travelling over a long distance and the pain was nothing more than pins and needles.

For once in the last year of her life, Jenny felt herself relax without fear of what the morning would bring.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to x-men are awesome, MissOrlane, MissJayne, Pixie-Galaxy-Dust, jstapny, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, LyssLovesTiva33, Tony and Ziva forever, Hiphuggers2 and Tempe4Booth for reviewing!

Ziva knelt in front of the door and peered at the lock, noting that it was a simple pin and barrel. She smiled grimly and then looked through the key hole, trying to glimpse the guards outside, if there were any, but she couldn't make anything out. There was no breathing behind the door though, at least none she could hear, and that was a good sign, at least for them. Jenny still hadn't come back, a few minutes ago she had been sure she could hear her screaming, but the silence since then was oppressive. The women in the room had already begun to mourn Jenny while they could, believing that the silence had signalled her death. Ziva should join them, she should let loose the tears that burned behind her eyes, but she couldn't, not yet. She still had a job to do.

She closed her eyes and leant her head against the cold steel door, hoping to centre her thoughts and get her feelings under control. Soon they would be making a desperate escape from their prison, so silence would be imperative. She was scared though, scared that Jenny could still be alive and that by leaving her behind, she was signing her death warrant, but as the women had said, she had other responsibilities right now and Jenny would never forgive her if she got the others killed just to come looking for her.

Squaring her shoulders Ziva picked up the piece of metal and inserted it into the lock, twisting and turning it until the lock clicked and the door opened slightly. She held it closed for a moment, straining to hear if anyone had been alerted by the noise, but she heard no footsteps or shouts of alarm. She looked behind her at the hopeful yet terrified faces of the women and then nodded to them. They nodded back and grabbed onto their babies and the weakest of them, helping them to their feet.

Ziva looked once more through the keyhole and then pulled the door open, sneaking out into the corridor and making sure no one was around. The corridor was empty so she turned to the women and beckoned them towards her, wincing at the pain the simple action caused her and she watched as they spilled out into the corridor as swiftly as they could.

Recalling what Jenny had told her about the layout of the complex she led them down the left corridor, watching behind her in case someone should try to flank them. It was dark; lights were situated intermittently down the corridor outside certain doors, which she figured must contain something special. The corridor itself ran straight on, occasionally bending slightly, but always going straight on, doors peppering each side of them.

It was eerily quiet, there were no raucous male voices echoing down the corridor to them, where were they all? Ziva shook off the nightmarish visions of them waiting in the corridor ahead of them, guns drawn to just mow them down when they thought they were free. She glanced around her as she led the women down the corridor, watching all of the doors carefully as they passed. What if Jenny was just behind one of those doors? What if she was just waiting for her to open one of them and save her? What if her body was behind one of them? Should she leave it? Should she put the others at risk just to satisfy her curiosity?

She curled her hands into fists and rushed on ahead, trying to get away from the temptation to reach out and turn the handles. The women glanced at her curiously, some fearfully, and she tried to smile back, to show them that everything was alright, but they didn't look convinced. The corridor opened out into a small circular chamber with a set of stairs going up on the left and two doors, one straight ahead, one on the right. Ziva stopped the women in the chamber and snuck closer to the stairs, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Something was wrong here.

Suddenly she heard something that stopped her dead in her tracks, and made the women cower, pressing themselves against the walls of the chamber as if they could become shadows. It was men laughing, chuckling to each other over something, and it was just ahead of them, coming from the door right ahead. Immobilised by the sound they watched in mounting horror as the door handle turned and the door swung slowly inwards.

* * *

Jethro shook his head and passed the binoculars to DiNozzo, he had seen enough for himself already to know that this would be a little harder than he had originally thought, but certainly not impossible. The Hamas cell was indeed in this little settlement, and it looked like they had taken over the town hall as their base of operations. They had parked their car and turned off the headlights as soon as they had spotted the lights coming from the supposedly deserted village structures. They had carefully driven a little closer, but were unwilling to give their position away from the sound of the engine. Their caution was well placed but probably not needed as the 'guards' were not exactly top of the range.

There was a squad of three guards stood outside each of the two entrances, and it was obvious that they were not taking their duty seriously. They were drunk, with three or four empty bottles lying at their feet in the sand, and another bottle being kicked back and forth between the two lookout details. They didn't seem to think anyone would attack them, a fatal flaw that Jethro and his team were more than willing to exploit. The only problem that they could see was killing the six men silently when there were only three of them.

Gibbs walked to the boot of the car and opened it, pulling out the case he had brought especially for this kind of situation and opening it. Inside, encased in foam was his trusty sniper rifle, his specialist weapon, the one he was most proficient in, though he was great with any projectile weapon. He lifted it from the casing and put it together, flicking the sight cover off and shouldering the gun by the strap. He walked back around the car and then moved closer to his Agents.

"We could take them out from a distance, but that will definitely give us away. The noise from the guns alone would draw out everyone from inside the complex, and there are more targets now than we could take out safely. If they all came out, we would be seriously out gunned, probably killed. You two will have to get closer and take them out as quick as you can, I'll pick them off from a distance and then join you once they are dead." Jethro said, directing his Agents to do the most reckless thing he had ever asked them to do.

"You won't need to boss, one of the squads is going back in, if we are fast, we can kill the others, stash the bodies and wait for them to come back. We could do this silently after all." Tony reported, a flash of morbid delight in his eyes, making Gibbs frown. As good as DiNozzo was, he had hoped to never see delight at the thought of killing from him, never, though that was probably just the effect of losing someone he cared for so strongly. Gibbs nodded his agreement and passed the rifle to McGee.

"Cover us." He ordered, knowing that the young Agent wouldn't be able to slash someone's throat, but he would be able to save them with a gun. McGee nodded and shouldered the rifle, knowing that he would probably not need to use it, but prepared to learn how to, and fast, just in case. Jethro turned to Tony and they both pulled out their weapons, checking their ammo and then putting them away again. They wouldn't be caught short. Tony bent over to pull a knife from his calf and Jethro saw a flash of gold around his neck. He was wearing Ziva's necklace. Tony caught him looking and pulled the chain out in front of him gently.

"For luck." He explained, tucking it inside his shirt and then checking his knife. Gibbs nodded, accepting the explanation and promptly ignoring the flare of jealousy that erupted inside him. It was his own fault really, but he had nothing to remember Jenny by, no memento of their time together since he had given her the only picture he had kept, the one from Serbia. The rest of her things had been destroyed in the fire that he had started in her home, as much to protect her privacy from the press who would have done anything to infiltrate her home and find her secrets if he had left it standing, as to hide Svetlana's body.

"Let's go." He said, shaking himself from his reverie and starting across the desert towards the settlement under cover of darkness, running flat out and hoping that the remaining guards wouldn't suddenly take their jobs seriously and look out across the moonlit sand. They wouldn't be easy to spot, but it wasn't impossible for them to be seen by the drunks. Once they were two hundred yards away from the enemy they slowed and pressed themselves against the side of the buildings, attempting to catch their breath before trying to sneak any closer. Once they had their breathing under control Gibbs motioned for DiNozzo to follow him and copy him as much as possible.

Gibbs stayed close to the walls of the buildings but didn't press back on them, instead running freely from shadow to shadow, stopping for a few seconds after every move. He signalled to Tony and the both of them moved at the same time, Tony running to the place Gibbs had just vacated and then they froze and repeated the movements, making their way slowly towards the guards, who were none the wiser that their lives would shortly be ending. Soon they were only ten feet away from them, hiding in the shadows the lights created around the building, waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

One of the men picked up a bottle and started to drink, while another walked away from the light to take a leak against the building and the last man began to sing badly. Gibbs signalled to Tony who melted away into the shadows, preparing to take out the man answering a call of nature and Gibbs snuck up behind the one drinking. His knife was out and slashing the throat of the drunk before him in seconds, making sure that it was deep enough to kill him outright. The singing man picked up a bottle and laughed, downing the last of the liquid and looking back at his friend only to see Gibbs right in front of him, his bloody knife already arching towards his throat. The guards body fell to the ground, a low gurgle the only sound he made.

Tony walked into the light, his face a mask of ambivalence, not letting what he had just done get to him. He may have killed a defenceless man, but they had done worse to the women that Agent Hilliard had reported seeing, so his conscience was clear, it _should_ be clear. He stooped and grabbed the feet of one of the bodies, helping Gibbs to drag it out of the light and then returning to move the other. Just in time.

The second squad of drunks came back out of the other exit and resumed their drinking, oblivious to the absence of the other team. Gibbs and Tony made their way towards them, hoping that they would remain oblivious for just a little longer. They watched the men for a few minutes but it was clear that these were the more sober of the two groups and that it would take a lot more alcohol before they were as complacent as the other group.

Deciding to risk it, Tony snuck up behind one of them and slashed his throat, watching Gibbs out of the corner of his eyes as he brought his knife around the neck of another. Dropping the man he had, he took a big chance and stepped forward towards the last man. He entered the circle of light and heard the sharp intake of breath as the guard got ready to scream, but instead he just gurgled as Gibbs' knife struck home. As one they both then advanced on the last man, just as he turned around.

For a second his jaw went slack and he stared at the bodies of his comrades, then his attention snapped back to the men before him and he pulled out his gun. Tony threw his knife at him and it sunk several inches into his neck before his guttural cry of rage could manifest itself. The last guard fell to the ground, staining the sand red and both Gibbs and Tony sighed heavily in relief. They had remained undetected and they were unharmed, a very good outcome.

They took a moment to relax, but the screams that suddenly cut through the air startled them, and they started towards the doorway, peering down into the dimly lit structure. The stairs went down quite far, making seeing inside difficult. The screams of the women that were inside drove them on, and they pressed themselves to the side of the stairwell and descended into the semi darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, MissJayne, jstapny, LyssLovesTiva33, Hiphuggers2, .hallway, Tempe4Booth, HesMines and ParisLoveSummer1999 for reviewing!

Ziva beckoned to the women, frantically waving them over to her but the fear of the men who were about to discover them kept them frozen in place, unable to run even as the first man walked through the door, his laughter still echoing around the chamber they all stood in. Their eyes wide with terror, the women backed further away from him towards the tunnel they had just escaped from, causing Ziva to take a chance and rush across the chamber, pushing and pulling the women towards the stairs. A few moved when she forced them on, running full pelt up the stairs and away from the men, but the majority were simply too afraid, the only movement they were capable of being the loss of control of their bodily functions.

Unable to leave them to their inevitable deaths, Ziva stood in front of them, shielding them with her own body, and looked around at the man, watching him freeze just inside the chamber, his eyes widening at the sight of the frightened mass of women. He was joined immediately by another man, who had yet to realise why his friend had stopped dead where he stood. His exit required the door to the room they were leaving to be opened even further, and Ziva watched them fearfully until her gaze caught something past them, something in the room they had just vacated.

It was a woman, her body prone and lying strapped to a wooden table, which was soiled with blood and grime from countless previous victims, its surface slick now with the blood of its current occupier. Ziva's stomach plummeted and she recoiled in horror, one hand automatically reaching up to cover her mouth. It was Jenny, her distinctive red hair giving away her identity and her fair skin clearly showing the myriad of cuts and lacerations on her body, which hadn't been there before she had been taken from the cell. She couldn't see any movement from her friend whatsoever, not even breathing.

Ziva drew in a breath, her lung capacity seeming to have shrunk and tears pooled in her eyes. Each ragged breath fanned an anger inside of her so intense that she felt her muscles vibrating with it, the tears overflowing and falling thick and fast down her cheeks. A sharp intake of breath alerted her to the fact the second man had realised they were there and a high pitched scream of terror rang around the chamber from one of the women, igniting the other women's voices as the simple action released their frozen muscles and they stumbled away from the men towards the stairs, their screams unifying into a single chorus of panic.

The men unfroze at the sound too and they reached for their weapons, each man pulling a gun from a holster that hung from the belt around their waists. Ziva reacted instinctively, throwing her arm out and launching the piece of metal that she had picked the door lock with through the air at the first man. The metal projectile pierced the man's brain, embedding itself in his skull straight through the left eye socket, killing him instantly. He fell forwards, his collapsing corpse absorbing the first few bullets fired by the man behind him, allowing some of the women to escape and Ziva to launch herself at him.

The sound of gunfire echoed around the complex and the sharp trill of an alarm was sounded moments later. More men would be coming soon but all that mattered to Ziva was the here and now, and right now she was going to avenge Jenny's death, and she would do it as slowly as she could. The man saw the danger he was in and aimed his weapon at her, a grim smile reaching his eyes as he pulled the trigger. Ziva had nowhere to go and no cover to hide behind. The first bullet tore through her side as she ducked to her right, avoiding a fatal impact, but the second hit home.

Pain exploded in her torso, her warm blood running from the bullet wounds and she fell to her knees, letting out an agonised cry as she went down. Bending forwards, her palms flat in the ground she curled as a wave of pain washed over her, her fingers clenching in the dirt. A pair of feet appeared before her tear blurred vision and she raised her head, glaring into the face of the monster standing over her. He laughed and raised his gun, pushing the nozzle against her forehead and while he was swearing at her he pulled the trigger.

*Click* He pulled his gun back from her head and stared at it in confusion, trying to count how many bullets he had fired, unable to account for how his gun was now empty. Ziva laughed, hysteria settling in as she felt the blood draining from her body. This was not how she and Jenny had planned their escape, it wasn't supposed to end like this for either of them, but then that was life wasn't it? The unpredictability had once been a comfort to her, her time in Mossad allowing her to roll with the punches as long as she was two or three steps ahead. NCIS had changed that outlook though.

She had begun to revel in the predictability, the security of the familiar, of knowing that all of the members of her new family were still going to be there in the morning, and every morning for as long as she could imagine. She had made plans and had dreams of a future, a mundane future with the man that she loved and she had believed they were attainable. Then Jenny had been taken from her, she had been sent back to Tel Aviv by the new director and she had lost her grip on her perfect world.

She reviewed her life with the minutes she had left, her whole life, and she knew one simple but terrible truth. Her life meant nothing, it was empty of the things that were really important to her; love, a family, friends, and now it was too late to change it. Her friends hated her, their hurtful words when they had parted ways revolving around her head. Her family was either dead or wanted her dead and her dreams of a family with Tony had gone up in smoke when he had turned away from her. She was alone and bleeding and in a flash she knew how Jenny had felt that first time in the diner in the desert.

_Jenny_. Ziva gasped in pain, she knew she was dying, her body was finally failing as she lost her will to go on, but there was one thing she still had to do. She didn't want to die alone, she needed her friend in her last few minutes, and she wouldn't leave her in this place, not now. If there was even a small chance that they would be found, she wanted to be buried with the woman she had been tied to by fate many years ago; they had endured too much together to leave one another now.

Steadily, with her one mission clear in her mind, she began to crawl forwards, towards the door that hid Jenny's body from sight. Pain exploded in her head as the man she had forgotten about hit her over the head with the butt of his empty gun, but it didn't slow her down. Again he hit her, and again, but she steadfastly crawled on. A foot on her back finally stopped her progress, and this time the blow to her head dazed her.

Shouts and gunfire sounded around her and the pressure on her back disappeared, so she forced her weakening muscles to drag her forwards, her vision now blurred with tears and obscured with small pin pricks of light. Reaching out she placed her hand flat on the door and pushed, using all of her strength to open it, leaving her lying exhausted in the threshold. Insistent hands lifted her slightly from the floor and rolled her over, just as her body gave up its hold on consciousness.

* * *

Tony rushed down the stairs, as quickly and quietly as he could, still pressing backwards on the wall, Gibbs at the other side, keeping up with him easily as they descended further down into the tunnel. The screams got louder and a few moments' later four women rushed up the stairs towards them. Upon seeing them however the women dropped down on the stairs, staring at them in despair and crying uncontrollably. Tony held up a placating hand and hesitantly moved closer to them.

"Hey, it's ok, we're friends. We are _not_ here to hurt you." he said loudly, reaching down to the closest woman and helping her to her feet. The women looked up at them when they heard his American accent and they began to babble desperately to him in Arabic. "Err, okay…" Tony looked at Gibbs, puzzled, watching his boss move closer to the women.

They turned to Gibbs, seeming to recognise him, though they had never seen him before and they all reached out to him, their voices blending together as they attempted to communicate something to him. After a few seconds, more women rushed up the stairs and joined the others in trying to talk to Gibbs. He flicked open his cell phone and called McGee.

"McGee, some women are leaving the complex, light up the car so they can find you." Gibbs said and then put his phone back in his pocket. He reached down to the women and gestured as he spoke to them, hoping they would understand what he was saying. "Go up and then run to the light in the desert. One of my men is there; he will look after you, alright? Go." He said, ushering them up the stairs. A woman approached him, hefting a child in her arms, letting the others go past her. She looked up at the two men and grabbed one of their hands in hers.

"Help… she… down." The woman said, her English broken. She seemed to only know a few basic words, but gestured down the stairs frantically. Gibbs nodded and pushed the woman on up the stairs. She relented and fled up the stairs after the other women, shouting at the others in Arabic. Tony pulled out his gun and began to go down the stairs again, stopping briefly when he heard gunshots and then an alarm rang out through the base.

"Double time, DiNozzo." Gibbs said next to him and they both abandoned stealth in favour of speed, the two of them pelting down the stairs and coming out into a circular chamber. Tony stopped dead and stared at the sight that met his eyes, not quite believing that what he was seeing was real. A man stood in the chamber, a dead man next to him and a woman lying before him. It was Ziva. She was trying to crawl into a room away from the man but she was bleeding profusely, a blood trail on the floor showing where she had crawled from.

A rage built up in him, a red haze descending over his eyes and he let out a shout of fury, launching himself across the room at the man and knocking him off of Ziva. They crashed to the floor but he straddled the other man, punching him in the face over and over, aware of Gibbs firing behind him as more guys appeared behind them, but he didn't care. He threw punch after punch, blood spurting from the broken mouth of the man he was beating to death, but he didn't stop, he couldn't. Perhaps mercifully the flurry of blows snapped the man's neck and he stopped struggling.

The anger drained from him as the man's body became limp, leaving Tony gasping for breath; his knuckles bleeding were his own skin had split from the force of his punches. He got up from the body of the man and rushed over to Ziva's now still form, fear filling him. He dropped to her side, tears falling down his cheeks as he hesitantly reached out to her, afraid he was too late. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and lifted her from the floor on to his lap, smoothing her hair from her dirty face.

"Ziva! Ziva, come on, wake up. You're safe now, I've got you." He whispered to her, his fingers drifting over her neck, desperately seeking a pulse. He looked her over carefully, noting how thin she had become, and how discoloured her skin was with bruises. "Ziva… don't do this to me, not now… come on!" he said brokenly, clutching her body closer to his, a small bubble of relief appearing in his chest when her weak pulse finally made itself known to him.

"DiNozzo! Back up would be nice!" Gibbs shouted from behind him, a fresh salvo of bullets pelting the walls around him. Tony pushed the door that Ziva's body was holding open away from her and stooped, lifting her in his arms and then standing up. His jaw dropped in shock when he finally tore his eyes away from Ziva and looked around the small room she had been trying to get in to.

"Boss!" he shouted, his eyes fixed on the centre of the room, on a bloody table and its occupant. It wasn't possible, it just wasn't. She was dead; she had been for over a year. Tony's blood boiled and he clutched Ziva's body closer to his. Was this some sort of sick torture they were inflicting on Ziva? Freezing Jenny's body and then bringing it out to show her while they held her prisoner?

"What?" Gibbs shouted back, his patience now close to nonexistent. Tony opened his mouth to shout back but his eyes were drawn to the blood, to the bruises on the body, and all of the autopsies he had been to suddenly rushed back to him. Those injuries had been inflicted _before_ death, but she had not been in this condition back in the desert. He walked closer, awkwardly shifting Ziva to one side and he reached out to Jenny's neck. The moment his skin made contact with hers he pulled his hand back as if burned. Her skin was still warm.

"Boss…" Tony shouted again, at a loss for words, unable to verbalise what he was seeing. Luckily for him, Gibbs had finished off most of the hostile men; the only remaining ones had run away, so he came over to him quickly.

* * *

"Is that Ziva?" Jethro asked, a little astounded, pointing to the unconscious woman in Tony's arms. He hadn't really thought that her still being alive was a possibility, but he was glad Tony hadn't given up. They had arrived just in time to save her; at least he hoped they had. She didn't look very good. He started to turn and leave the room until he looked past them, seeing what Tony was looking at, and his arms fell limply to his side.

_No, it's not possible_, he thought, his mind spinning, trying to find an explanation for the impossibility that he was seeing. _This is __**not**__ possible_. _Ducky had said she was dead, we buried her, and I lost her forever. Tony and Ziva were there, they wouldn't have lied to me, would they? No they wouldn't, not again._ He looked over at Tony; the confusion there was enough to reassure him. They had been deeply affected by her death too, so this was just as much of a shock to Tony as it was to him.

"She's warm." Tony muttered, almost under his breath but Gibbs knew he was supposed to hear it. All coherent thought drained from him, and Jethro walked closer, his eyes raking over her barely more than gaunt form. He reached out a shaking hand to touch her skin, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid as he prepared himself for the only explanation there was. He was hallucinating, he had probably been shot and was lying in a pool of blood somewhere and this is how his mind was preparing him for death. This wasn't real, so he wouldn't actually be able to feel her, right?

His finger pads brushed against the skin of her cheek and his knees nearly buckled. She was here, she was really here, but how and why would someone dig her up and bring her here? _She's warm._ The words Tony had said to him revolved in his brain and he touched her more urgently now. He dared to hope. There was a reason for her heat and he was going to find out what it was. He roughly pushing Tony aside, muttering something akin to a half-hearted apology and reached out his hands to both sides of her neck, taking no chances of missing a heartbeat.

For a moment nothing happened and a pressure began to build behind his eyes, and then he felt the blood as it pushed beneath her skin, under his fingers, through her carotid artery. It was very slow and irregular, but it was there. He let out a breath of stunned relief and then took inventory of her injuries. There were a lot of them. The distant sound of footsteps galvanised him into action and he pulled out his knife, cut through the bonds holding her on the table and lifted Jenny's wasted body into his arms. He looked at DiNozzo and then nodded at the exit.

"We're getting out of here. Now."


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to hopesmom, Huddly, Hiphuggers2, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, LyssLovesTiva33, rain. lit. hallway, jstapny, MissJayne, Mrs. Scott323, horseninja, YourFavoriteLabPartnerEver, Kizumi9180 and HesMines for reviewing! I had to put spaces in some of your names because otherwise they wouldn't show up, strangely enough.

A.N.: This chapter is McGee's point of view, beginning from when Tony and Gibbs leave him at the car, and extending throughout the events described in previous chapters and beyond. I wanted to slow it down a little because I don't know about you, but after writing, editing and rereading the last chapter before posting it, I felt emotionally drained, lol.

* * *

Timothy McGee nervously watched as his team mates disappeared into the blackness surrounding the complex, hesitantly pulling the strap of the sniper rifle from his shoulder and then raising the sight to his eyes. The first squad outside the entrance to the complex was still there, not really paying attention to anything but the continuation of their drunken state. If they kept on drinking, Gibbs and Tony would be able to dispatch them rather quickly. He frowned at that thought, unsure if this could come back to bite them later. Would their Agency see this as murder? Would they be hunted by local authorities? Or would their status as Agents be enough to keep them safe?

He lowered the rifle and looked around him for a spot to take cover behind; somewhere he could rest the rifle so he could shoot with more precision. He turned and looked at the car. It was the highest point that he could get to easily and with the lights off it was also dark enough that he wouldn't be made out in the darkness. He put the gun on the roof and then climbed onto the car, settling down on the cold metal surface and taking a deep, calming breath. They wouldn't have made it over there yet, but it was his job to ensure their safety, so he pulled the gun towards himself and looked again through the sight.

He could easily make out the men, but Tony and Gibbs were nowhere to be seen. Not willing to risk missing them, he carefully observed the squad of men, watching them continue to drink while his team mates hopefully closed in. He almost didn't see them step into the light and dispatch the men; they were so quick and methodical. He cringed when the blades were drawn across the drunken men's throats, averting his gaze so he didn't have to watch the life leave them. It might be silent over here, but he could imagine the gurgling screams as they died.

He carefully manoeuvred the gun slightly to the right so he didn't have to watch anymore, having seen enough to know that they were no longer in danger from that squad. He moved it to the other entrance, intent upon keeping ahead of the danger, and he spotted the second squad now exiting the complex. McGee held his breath and looked back at Gibbs and Tony, unable to warn them because his radio would be too loud on their end in the stillness of the night, only to see that they were gone and so were the bodies.

He frantically scanned the ground and then the space around the second squad, but he still couldn't see them. Where were they? Had they decided to slip through the other entrance while they still had the advantage? Or were they using the same tactic as they had just used against the first squad? Deciding to err on the side of caution McGee pulled the safety off and positioned his finger on the trigger, carefully watching the shadows for movement. If any of those men saw Gibbs and Tony emerge from the darkness, he would kill them so they couldn't hurt his friends.

It was a strange feeling, waiting for someone to react to something it was entirely possible that he himself wouldn't see. It was stranger, and wholly more distasteful, to pull the trigger on someone who didn't know he was there. He preferred to be face to face with the suspects, to shoot them only when they left him no other choice. This felt too much like cold blooded murder, and he didn't like this feeling.

He shook his head at himself, trying to dislodge that assessment from his mind, but it stuck with him. He had come here with Tony to help him find the person responsible for Ziva's death, and while he knew that Tony would never have let the guy live, he hadn't expected to be in a situation like this. Killing was wrong, he was in a federal Agency because he believed that and he wanted to stop people from murdering others, so actually doing what he had been trying to prevent for the last few years was debilitating in its disgrace.

This time he saw his friends creeping out of the shadows, and he watched in mounting horror as it became apparent that one of the men would see them. McGee pressed his eye closer to the gun sight and his finger tightened on the trigger, as he carefully aimed for the man's chest. He saw the moment when the man heard something he didn't like. He watched the man turn around and he pressed his finger harder on the trigger, intending to shoot him but he couldn't, the man wasn't armed. His finger froze on the trigger and no matter how hard he willed it to move, it didn't.

He watched, waiting for the guy to do something, hoping that he would make a move for a weapon so he could justify taking his life. Finally he did so, but the moment McGee moved to actually pull the trigger, a knife blade protruded from the back of the man's neck and he fell to the ground. Gibbs and Tony were unharmed and remained undetected. Timothy let out a shaky breath of relief and let his head fall on to the cold surface of the car. Shame followed quickly and he groaned angrily. He should have fired; he should have killed that man. He could have, he'd had him in his sights, but he had let indecision take over.

The last time he had hesitated, Gibbs had nearly been killed and he'd said he would take his badge. At the time that had been enough incentive to make him think twice, but now he was experienced enough to know that his badge should be the last thing he worried about, his first concern should be the lives of his team. He had let them down, he had put them in danger but he wouldn't again. Right now he was the line between life and death; his intervention could save his team mates, but so far all he had done was watch from afar and cringe from his duty. It wouldn't happen again.

Steeling his resolve Tim looked back through the sight, his reservations against firing now completely suppressed, and watched curiously as Tony and Gibbs stalked close to the entrance to the complex. They looked worried. McGee swallowed and scanned around their position, trying to see what had them worried, but he couldn't make out any threats. Suddenly the two men rushed through the entrance and disappeared completely from McGee's sight.

Tim studiously kept a lid on his nerves, watching both entrances for any sign of movement just in case the Hamas terrorists tried to flank his team mates, hoping that whatever they were doing, they would do it fast. A few moments passed before McGee's cell phone trilled loud in the night, nearly making Tim fall off the car roof in fright. He swiftly answered the call, unsurprised to hear Gibbs' voice on the other end.

"_McGee, some women are leaving the complex, light up the car so they can find you._" Gibbs said quickly and Tim nodded, then realised Gibbs couldn't see the action and answered while sliding off the car roof hurriedly.

"Right boss." McGee answered, the dial tone the only confirmation he received. Tim reached inside the car and switched on the headlights, not liking the fact he was now a sitting duck, but trusting Gibbs enough to know he wouldn't intentionally put him in danger. He pulled the gun off of the car roof and used the sight to watch for these women. When he saw them, his stomach dropped. There were at least a dozen of them and some of them held small children; there was no way they would all fit into this small rental car along with his teammates. "You've got to be kidding me." He whispered desolately, dropping the gun sight and sighing in frustration. They would need a bus to get all of these women out of here.

Tim froze and thought about that. How would these people have gotten around? They couldn't walk through the desert; it would be suicide, so they must have their own form of transportation. They would have needed a few cars of their own to run those raids for food and other things, and especially to transport themselves and the women from the other settlement before back up had arrived for Agent Hilliard. Lifting the sight to his eye, he scanned the settlement for any vehicles or Tyre tracks. A grin appeared on his face when he saw exactly what he needed.

McGee waited for the first of the women to reach him and then told them to sit in the car and wait. They looked at him with puzzled expressions but he didn't have time to tell them again. He hefted the gun, threw it over his shoulder and sprinted across the sand towards the place the terrorists were using as a car park. It took him a few moments to get there, and then he got straight to work, seeking out the largest cars. Most of them were off road vehicles, but that meant that they could only seat four or five people tops, and he didn't really want to have a convoy following them out. The women may not know how to drive either. So Gibbs, Tony and himself would have to drive a car each.

He shook his head and started trying car doors, finding that none of them were locked, which was strange. Eventually he found the one he was looking for. It was a military vehicle, one of those that transport soldiers and equipment in the movies, with some sort of camouflage material covering the entire back part. McGee laughed a little in joy and jumped in behind the wheel. There was no key of course so he hotwired it and tried to start it, but it wouldn't. McGee whacked the dashboard and tried again, but nothing happened.

Resting his head on the steering wheel, McGee suddenly wished he had paid more attention to what Abby did to those cars that came in as evidence, rather than watching her while she leaned over them. Pulling out his phone he dialled Abby's lab number and waited for her to pick up, hoping against hope that she was still in at this late hour.

"_Hey McGee, what are you doing up so early? Are you coming back home yet?_" she asked excitedly and despite the dire circumstances, McGee grinned. It must be further into the night than he had realised but Abby was still her happy self.

"Abby, we only just got here-" he said and he could almost see her crossing her arms, readying herself for a fight.

"_There is __**no way**__ the flight took that long; I was watching the arrivals on the Somalia airport boards. You've been there for __**hours**__. Is Tony ok? Oh, is Gibbs ok?_" she asked, concern creeping into her voice.

"Yes of course, why?" he asked, confused by her sudden concern for the others.

"_They haven't interrupted you yet._" She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. McGee grimaced, Abby would pick up on things like that; she was incredibly in tune with everyone.

"Actually we're in a bit of a… situation." He admitted hesitantly, knowing there was no other way to say it now she knew something was wrong.

"_Explain._" She ordered sternly.

"No time. I just need to know what's wrong with my car. It won't start." He said, diverting her attention from the danger to something more innocuous.

"_Do you have a key?_" she asked sarcastically.

"No, I've hotwired it." he answered, knowing she was just put out by him changing the subject.

"_Did you do it right?_"

"Yes!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"_Does it have petrol in the tank?_" she asked calmly, as it became more obvious that McGee was very worried.

"Erm… how do I know if it won't start?" McGee asked peevishly and Abby huffed angrily.

"_McGee, you mustn't have hotwired it right. You need to get it so the lights will go on and stuff and then the indicators will move accordingly. You don't need petrol to see if you have any._" Abby explained slowly, a hint of mirth in her voice.

"Right, just a moment…" McGee said, putting his phone on the seat next to him and leaning down to try and sort out the mess he had made of the wiring. A few seconds later the lights came on and he sat up letting out a cry of elation. His good mood was spoiled by the indicator, which read 'empty'. "It's empty."

"_Are you near a petrol station? Or near a car you can siphon from?_" She asked him, and he looked around at the other cars.

"Yes, lots of other cars." He answered with a mixture of happiness and apprehension in his voice. Siphoning petrol was very dangerous, and he would need a lot of it.

"_Ok, good. You need a hose, or piping of some kind and something to pour it in and out of._" She said and McGee got out of the truck, looked around the car park and then in the back of the truck but found nothing. He rummaged in a pile of garbage and finally found a container large enough for what he needed; now he just needed a hose or something. He walked back towards one of the cars that looked like it was used the most and looked in the back. There was some sort of rubber piping in there, though he didn't want to know what they were using it for.

"Ok, I've got them." he said, putting his cell on speaker so he could work and talk and then he rolled up the rubber tube.

"_Good. Now find the fullest tank and start with that one._" Abby advised and McGee nodded, thinking along the same lines.

"Good idea, I don't want to have to breathe in more fumes than I need to." he agreed, looking at the indicators of the other cars. He groaned, he'd have to hotwire them all to see which was the fullest. Sighing, he pulled the panel off of the most used car and got to work.

A few minutes of hard and dangerous work later, McGee had half filled the trucks' tank and thrown up whatever food had still been in his stomach due to inhaling the fumes. He took a deep, steadying breath of fresh, clean air and wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. Score one for the McAbby team.

"_Is it done, McGee?_" Abby asked hesitantly, the sound of his retching reaching her loud and clear. Tim picked his phone back up and turned the speaker phone off, bringing it to his ear.

"Yeah, I've done as much as I can stomach anyway." he groaned, settling in the driver's seat and then staring at the gear stick. "You said you've driven stick before, didn't you Abs?"

"_Yeah_." She said slowly, unsure what he was alluding to. McGee wiggled the stick apprehensively, making a cursory look around for instructions and then answered.

"Good. I'm going to need instructions."

Thankfully it wasn't as hard as Gerald had made it out to be, though if he'd had Abby in the seat next to him, he would have had a lot more success too. McGee said goodbye to Abby, promised to call her as soon as they were out of danger and then found his phone was ringing again.

"_McGee? Where the hell are you?_" Tony shouted down the phone, causing Tim to pull it away from his ear sharply. He stared at the cell phone as Tony's angry voice easily carried over to him, even though he was holding it at arm's length. "_We've been trying to reach you! You could have been dragged off and killed and no one would have known! You need to get back to the car, there were complications and… you need to…_" Tony trailed off, and Tim could have sworn he heard him sniffle. Was he… crying?

"Tony, I just went looking for bigger transportation. The car won't fit all of us, so I found a truck that hopefully will." He said, unsure if Tony was listening to him anymore. There was a lot of noise on the other end of the line and then another voice spoke.

"_Good idea McGee, is it functional?_" Gibbs asked, his voice oddly strained.

"Yes boss, just filled the tank myself. I'll be over there in a few seconds." He replied, already moving the car through the gears, his headlights a strange yellow colour, probably from age.

"_Good._" The line went dead but McGee was used to Gibbs' abrupt hang-ups, so it didn't bother him. He swiftly drove the truck over to the car where he had left the women, manoeuvring over the sand surprisingly easily in the old vehicle. There were lots of people crowded around the car when he pulled up alongside it and he hesitantly stepped out and looked for Gibbs and Tony, only to see they were already showing the women the way into the truck's back, and they were both carrying someone each.

McGee's heart sped up and his expression turned blank. He shook his head and then ran over to them, coming to a stop just as Gibbs and Tony passed the two unconscious or dead ladies into the waiting arms of the other women. He stared openly as both Jenny and Ziva were cradled and their wounds were dressed as well as they could be with only dirty clothing to work with. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to its owner, finding he was looking into the bloodshot eyes of Tony.

Both his and Gibbs' clothes were covered in blood, the sleeves already ripped off to tie around Ziva and Jenny's injuries, coats given to the more scantily clad of the girls and raw pain on their faces. Tony opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He floundered for a second before giving up and taking his arm back from McGee's shoulder. Both of the men that McGee respected the most were shattering before him, but for once, Tim knew exactly what to say.

"I'll drive."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to HesMines, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, LyssLovesTiva33, horseninja, Hiphuggers2, Tempe4Booth, MissJayne and jstapny for reviewing!

From the moment he laid eyes on Jenny, after all of the time she had been gone, Gibbs' perception of events became centred on only her. Every minute he thought of her, wondered if she was still alive or if she would leave him again. Every time someone spoke he wished it was her speaking to him, he imagined it was her voice washing over him in that calm husky tone she used when she was explaining something she found incredibly simple. Whenever he looked at his hands he saw her blood on them, his flesh stained with her life even as it leaked away. Every time there was a flurry of activity around her, he thought she must have died, and every time one of these things happened, he wished he could take her place.

The drive from the Hamas camp to the nearest hospital had been a long one, and he had felt every second as if it was a lifetime. He had constantly told McGee to drive faster, even though the young probie had already been pushing the old truck as fast as it could go. He had looked over his shoulder many times, cursing his decision to sit up front, letting Tony sit with Ziva in the back. He had known he should be back there holding Jenny's hand, letting her know he was with her, but instead he had sat up front pretending that he was unaffected by her sudden reappearance, even though his heart writhed in agony from the distance between them. his act hadn't fooled anyone, even McGee had seen through him, but he had determinedly ignored the cracks in his barriers.

Arriving at the hospital had been chaos. They had led the women to the entrance where their babble had been understood all too well and they had been seen straight away. Thankfully that had meant that Jenny and Ziva had been taken to surgery right away, instead of them having to wait for a doctor that spoke English to appear. They had been left in a waiting room, none of the nurses knowing how to communicate with them, so they stayed away. Gibbs and Tony had both found a chair and sat down turning to statues, staring at the door silently while their worlds crashed down around them, leaving only McGee to contact the authorities and NCIS.

That was where they were now, four hours later, and neither he nor Tony had moved an inch. He should feel bad that he was forcing McGee to face the enquiry into their mission alone, but his whole being was turned inwards, holding himself together while he waited for the news that could destroy him. Never in his life had he expected, or wanted, to go through Jenny's death _twice_.

Jethro glanced up at the clock, the first movement he had made in hours, and he grimaced at the shooting pains that the action sent down his neck. It had been a long time since they had arrived and surgery that goes on for this long usually means one thing. They were at deaths door, hands raised to knock and forfeit their continued existence. He shivered at the thought and then another more sinister one occurred to him. They could have died and the nurses just might not know how to tell them.

He glanced over at Tony, not entirely surprised to see that he was staring at the door, his eyes red and puffy, tears streaming silently down his face. For a moment, Jethro envied his ability to show his emotions, to let out all of what he was going through and not be ashamed, but it was simply not how he was built. He looked over at McGee, expecting to see him shooting nervous glances between his two teammates, but instead Tim was in the corner of the room, speaking lowly on his cell phone.

The door opened slowly and a doctor poked his head around it, scanning the room for who he was supposed to speak to, his eyes stopping on McGee with relief. Obviously Tim had been the only one in any fit state to talk to the doctors, so it was him they would speak to again. The doctor walked into the room and closed the door behind him before clasping his hands in front of him, seeing he had the attention of all three occupants.

Jethro's heart was beating an irregular rhythm, and for the second time in his life he felt the build-up of an anxiety attack. He needed to know if Jenny was alright, he needed to see her, but he knew that the doctor would insist upon giving them all a rundown of the injuries of both women before allowing them anywhere near them. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, suppressing the shudders that were building in his limbs and the tightness in his chest. This doctor had definitely mastered the art of building suspense, he hadn't even uttered a word and all three NCIS agents were, proverbially, on the edge of their seats.

"I am Doctor Ross; I was brought in to oversee the cases of your two female Agents as I am one of only three doctors here that speak English." He said gently, identifying himself warmly to the concerned men. "Now the Israeli female that you identified by the name Ziva David-"

"Because that's her name." Tony cut off the doctor peevishly, standing up from his chair sharply. The doctor inclined his head nonchalantly.

"Yes, well. This is the hospital that took in the woman that Director Eli David identified as his daughter. You must forgive us for being sceptical, but it is not possible for both of you to be correct-" the doctor said carefully, not wanting to anger the Agents, but also not wanting to call the Director of Mossad a liar.

"And you're going to believe the father over us?" Tony asked, narrowing his eyes as he once again cut off the doctor midsentence.

"Regardless of her name, the state of the young Israeli woman's health was terrible when she was brought in. She had been shot twice, one being a glancing hit to her left side causing minor muscle damage which we have repaired, the other penetrating her abdomen and exiting, so there was no bullet to remove. Repairing the damage made by the bullets passage was a fairly straightforward procedure. Her other injuries were actually more life threatening than the bullet wounds.

She had been starved and beaten resulting in serious internal injuries that were left untreated for _at_ _least_ a week. The internal bleeding in her abdomen has been stopped, but she had a subdural haematoma that was building quite steadily due to repeated blows to the head, which we have treated and would have proven fatal on it's own. It was quite serious; the blood build up had put a lot of pressure on the right hemisphere of her brain. Luckily the build up was slow and the damage was minimal, probably showing as only nausea and periods of unconsciousness. We will be watching for any signs of seizures or other burst blood vessels. Her head will need to be immobile for a while. She lost an enormous amount of blood, she is very lucky to be alive.

Of particular note was her leg which was broken quite a while ago. She has obviously been walking on it, if not running on it, which was… well it was a mistake. The two broken ends of the bone shattered under the uneven pressure that was being exerted on it and the muscle and fat around the break was, well it now closely resembles what meat looks like after being savaged by a shark. I have no idea how she managed to move on it without passing out. In fact if I had heard about the extent of her injuries before seeing her I would have believed her to be dead." The doctor concluded, shaking his head at how improbable her survival was.

"She can be very determined." Tony mused, a small smile softening his features for a few moments. The doctor nodded in agreement and then continued talking.

"It will need some _extensive_ reconstruction, including pinning the bone fragments together with metal plates until it heals properly on the inside, and a cast on the outside just to make doubly sure, and even then she may need the plate for… a while after. Her leg muscle will require physiotherapy to rebuild the strength of the reconstructed tissue." The doctor said, finally finishing his long list of what was wrong with Ziva.

"Is she awake?" Tony asked eagerly, but his enthusiasm was tempered by the shake of the doctor's head.

"No, nor will she be for a few more hours. She was given a strong sedative and a morphine drip for the rather considerable pain she will be in." he said, wincing slightly in sympathy for her. Tony dropped his head in his hands and took a steadying breath.

"I want to see her." he said, standing straighter and advancing upon the doctor, not in a menacing way, but in a way that showed he wouldn't take no for an answer. The doctor actually stared him down for a few seconds before relenting and giving him the number of her room.

"Room 113, but you will not be able to go in yet. The nurses are cleaning her up and fitting her with a catheter, and food line which they will need to do _privately_." The doctor stressed calmly, hoping that Tony would respect the young woman's need for privacy, which she so obviously had not gotten during her stay with the Hamas cell. "She is also being tested for STD's and pregnancy-"

"What? Why?" Tony demanded, cutting off the doctor again and making the young man roll his eyes with annoyance. Jethro listened impatiently as Tony and the doctor spoke, barely containing his own annoyance at Tony's interruptions. If he stopped him from speaking all of the time he would never find out how Jenny was.

"DiNozzo. _Sit_. You aren't the only one awaiting news here." Jethro commanded forcefully, a little of his irritation leaking out into his voice. Tony turned around sharply, but obeyed, his conscience telling him that Gibbs needed to know about Jenny as much as he did about Ziva.

"Yes boss." He forced out contritely. He sat back down and the doctor sent a relieved and thankful look to Gibbs.

"Some of the other women that you brought in were viciously gang raped, and that can damage more than just the mind. A small number of them had infections but their children do not, so we can assume that the contaminated male was a recent addition. Since miss David was in their _care,_ even though her time spent there was short, we thought it prudent to test her too." he said, more to Gibbs than Tony, since he was the calmer of the two asking questions. McGee was busy taking notes in the corner, no doubt to send to Ducky and Abby for a second opinion or to just generally report on their injuries.

"And Jenny?" Gibbs asked, a little desperation evident as he leaned forwards in his chair, his heart beating faster in anticipation of what the doctor would tell him. This moment had been impossible up until a few hours ago, and now it was here, it was all that really mattered to him.

"Miss Shepard is in a much more stable condition. Her injuries were much more invasive than those of Miss David, and she also showed serious internal injuries which were treated at the time they were made, or near enough to it. The damage was vast but quite expertly repaired which leads us to believe she was at one time in a hospital to receive treatment, yet we found no evidence of such in the medical records you gave us. It seems the damage was due to being shot a while ago, the best estimate we could make was a year ago." The doctor said tentatively.

"One year two months and twenty six days ago." Jethro supplied confidently, knowing exactly the day his heart had suffered a rigor that he had felt once before, and didn't want to experience ever again. _*~ (I don't actually know how long it has been, but since this Somalia kidnapping is so different from the one in the series, I'm not too worried. I'll just say it's AU. :) )_

"Yes well it seems that she has been the victim of extensive physical torture. Her bullet wounds were reopened time and time again after being allowed to partially heal. There is evidence of beating though that is fairly recent. Starvation is of a more immediate concern, the long term effects had thinned the lining of the stomach that protects it from the acid inside. In some places this became so thin that it had begun to eat itself. We have helped production of the protective mucus to prevent further breaches but the ulcers that have occurred will need to be monitored and kept in check with daily doses of medicine.

She will have them for the rest of her life though, and if any burst, which they shouldn't with continued care, it could kill her. The lacerations that are the most recent however are in the most sensitive areas of her body; the inside of her thighs, the sole of her foot, her arm pit, etc, and they were made shallow to cause lots of agony, but not to kill her. The fact that she was, and still is, unconscious is probably more to do with her _not wanting_ to wake up, which I could hardly blame her for. She too is being tested for STD's and pregnancy." The doctor reported, thankful that he had finished completely with the bad news.

"Now can we see them?" Tony asked urgently, his face twisted in a mixture of pain and joy, not quite knowing how to feel after what he had heard. Jethro could empathise with him completely. He could, if he wasn't so confused about his own feelings. His ears pricked up at the question and he stood up, letting the doctor know that he was going to find Jenny with or without his help. The doctor swallowed nervously and Gibbs levelled a glare at him that made him step back slightly.

"Yes, they are both in room 113, though the nurses may not have finished yet." He said nervously, glancing at the clock. Gibbs nodded and motioned for Tony to follow him.

"We'll wait outside until they are done." He promised amiably, striding out of the waiting room and down the corridor, their natural sense of direction leading them straight to their goal.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to horseninja, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, MissJayne, ChEmMiE, Hiphuggers2, YourFavoriteLabPartnerEver, rain. lit. hallway, Pixie-Galaxy-Dust, jstapny, Tony and Ziva forever and LadyJibbs for reviewing!

* * *

Tony followed closely behind Gibbs as they marched down the twisting corridors of the Somalia Hospital, counting the numbers on the doors as they steadily increased, bringing them nearer to their goal. With every step he took towards Ziva's room, an anxiety and anticipation grew inside him, prompting him to put on another burst of speed until he was almost running down the corridor, very nearly leaving Gibbs far behind.

Jethro wasn't as slow as he thought though, and soon they were neck and neck again, their heavy footfalls and sharp breaths the only sounds in the almost deserted hallway. He needed to see her, it was essential that he talk to her, her talking back wasn't necessary; he just needed to know she was ok. The corridor passed him in a blur of motion as he focussed only his destination, only on the woman he loved.

Suddenly they were there, outside room 113, and they stopped in front of it, both of them just standing motionless and staring at the number, neither one reaching for the handle. _Just inside of this room Ziva is waiting for you, she is alive and waiting to see you,_ he thought to himself, willing his hand to reach out and turn the handle so he could be at her side, but an errant thought struck him. What if she didn't want him there?

The thought left him cold, fear trickling through his veins and chilling him to the bone from the inside out. As that thought took root, more sprung forth taking hold of him and preventing him from closing his fingers around the door handle. The last things he had said to her before she had disappeared from his life had been cruel, and though he desperately wanted to take them back, would she listen? What if she hated him? What if, by saying what he had, he had prompted her to take the dangerous mission that had led to her capture?

The last thought, and by far the most devastating, grew in his mind slowly, taking its time to build up the horror that it would undoubtedly unleash upon his psyche. When it penetrated his stricken mind it was like a physical blow to his stomach. What if all of this was his fault? Just like with Jenny, his actions, or inactions, had almost caused the death of a colleague, except this colleague meant more to him, she meant everything to him. The '_almost_' struck him as a lie, but he was sure that his eyes hadn't deceived him, Jenny was alive and that meant that he hadn't gotten her killed. Had she?

He purposefully turned his thoughts to Jenny, which was surprisingly difficult. His whole being was screaming out for him to ignore Jenny, to just go find Ziva and never move away, but he fought it despite the very real pain it caused him to do so. He owed Jenny at least this much consideration, and he owed Gibbs much more. Gibbs had let him hear about Ziva first; calmly listening to everything that was said without complaint, when he himself had nearly given into the impulse to think only of Ziva. He had come with him to Somalia and he had helped to get the women here.

_Ziva,_ his mind repeated, what about Ziva? Was he going to ignore his love in favour of Jenny? She had Gibbs to think of her. Tony stood rooted to the spot, vacillating on the threshold of discovering the answers to all of those questions and turning around to protect himself from the rejection that may be coming, the terror that his negative thoughts could be true and the hope that they weren't both fighting for dominance over his body, keeping him from moving any further.

Gibbs sighed in irritation, his own nerves on edge, and stepped up beside him, preparing to do it himself. That action brought Tony out of his funk, causing him to reach out sharply and turn the handle before he could change his mind. Tony braced himself for what he would see and hear as best as he could, and then carefully pushed the door inwards.

Inside the room were three nurses and two beds with machines around them and crisp, white linen sheets on them, covering the modesty of their two occupants, the heads the only visible part of them. He looked first to the bed that was surrounded by three tough looking nurses, their faces a mask of shock and anger at the two men's sudden entrance when they hadn't yet finished their work. One nurse stood in their line of sight while the other two finished their jobs; one grooming red hair, the other connecting a food line to a strangely coloured bag.

Tony averted his gaze after realising he was gazing at the incapacitated woman in awe, his incredulity of Jenny's sudden reappearance not robbing him of his sense of decency. It was incredible to him that she was here and alive after so long, after believing she was gone forever, but she _is _alive, it was obvious now. It was he that pronounced her dead when he and Ziva had found her. He hadn't been able to find a pulse and there had been so much blood it hadn't seemed possible that she could survive. Yet here she was, turning up in the same Hellhole as Ziva, a whole country away from where she had been buried. He should be happy, but all he could feel was distress for Ziva's condition.

Every time he thought of Ziva, he had to fight not to run to her side. It wasn't a matter of pride; he would gladly run to her, it was fear. She had many good reasons to never want him near her again, and though it really hurt, he had to respect that chance. He looked wildly around the room, his internal understanding already crumbling in the face of his desperation, and then he saw her lying beneath the sheets of the other bed. He took a step forwards, she was the centre of his world, she always had been, but was he the centre of hers? The thought that he wasn't stopped him once again.

His heart pained him, but if she didn't actually feel for him what he felt for her, it would hurt a lot worse. The impulse to go to her was tempered by the need to run away, neither one stronger than the other. If she had loved him, surely she would have contacted him at some point, at any point, but she hadn't. Part of him knew that he hadn't done so either, but his love wasn't the one in question. Gibbs, who had taken the time to examine both of the charts that were at the foot of the women's beds, was now at this moment walking swiftly to his side. He felt the older man put a hand on his shoulder and then he whispered something to him, causing pressure to build behind his eyes.

"Go, or run away." The simple words shattered his resolve. He couldn't run from her, not really. His will to fight the urge to go to her disappeared, he had to give in. Just like that he lost control of himself and found he was moving swiftly to the other bed, the risk of being turned away completely leaving his mind as the face of the prone figure came into view. Ziva's tanned skin was not as golden as it once was, she looked flushed and feverish and a fine layer of perspiration covered her face and neck. Whether it was from the pain or from illness he wasn't sure, but he hoped that the morphine line she had been given would get the painkiller into her system and take effect soon.

Tony's legs weakened in relief as he watched her chest rise and fall, the regularly beeping heart monitor evidence enough that she really was here, she really was alive. Her long dark hair had already received treatment by the nurse with the comb and it was fanned out around her head, her usually thick, vibrant tresses were dull and lifeless despite the wash it had clearly received.

Everything the doctor had told him came rushing back and even though he couldn't see her body, he knew it was a mess of bruises and surgery scars. Not seeing that however was a blessing. Right now all he could see was his Ziva as she always has been, with a bruise on her head. He could almost believe they were in DC, him standing by her bedside in Bethesda after a tough case, making sure she didn't have a concussion.

Tony lifted one of her hands from where it resided under the covers and lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of it gently before placing it back on the bed. Just then the sight of her nails caught his eye, and he had to suppress the cry of surprise and alarm that attempted to force itself from him. The nails were split, grubby and jagged from defending herself, and using her fingers to drag herself along a solid concrete floor. He took a steadying breath, the brutality of these monsters filling him with hatred and he had to take comfort in the knowledge that they had saved her in time.

He reached out both hands for her face, stroking his fingers lightly over the skin of her cheeks, as if he was touching something so fragile that any kind of force could cause it to crumble into dust. The pressure behind his eyes finally released, the dam breaking and allowing a torrent of tears to once again pour forth, sobs shaking his body as they left him. She was alive; she really hadn't died in an explosion two weeks ago. Soon she would be in his arms and he wasn't going to send her away ever again. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers and stroking her hair away from her face. She was here and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Jethro watched as Tony froze just in front of him, and he had to stop sharply to avoid walking into the back of him. He angrily looked past the immobile DiNozzo and then his eyes met a sight that almost stopped his heart. He froze too, watching in horror as a group of nurses worked on Jenny. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he prepared to push Tony out of the way but then he caught sight of a comb, and realised that they weren't working on her medically, they were just grooming her. He let out a breath in relief and sagged a little, almost bending over to stay upright.

That was not what he needed to see right now, not when it hadn't really hit him that she was alive. He shook his head at himself and stood up straight again, telling himself to stop pretending. That was not the reaction of someone who didn't believe she was alive, that was the reaction of someone who was scared to death that she was going to _die_. He took a steadying breath and stepped around DiNozzo, desperate to get to Jenny's side, but one of the nurses took exception to his advance and she stood between him and the bed. Gibbs very nearly growled at her in frustration, but then decided to let the nurses' work.

He tore his eyes from the flash of red hair that he managed to glimpse and walked towards Ziva's bed. He was very glad that reports of Ziva's death were false, but looking at her now he wondered if she would think the same. She had not fared very well at the hands of her captors and it made him disgusted to think of the things that she and the other women had been put through. The possibility that the worst of it had happened to either her or Jenny made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

He needed to know though, and for that reason he reached out and plucked Ziva's chart from the foot of her bed, flipping to the tests page. The results were scrawled in English next to the original Arabic ones, no doubt the doctor knew that they would check and had ordered the results to be in their language too for peace of mind.

_STD's - NEGATIVE _

_Pregnancy - NEGATIVE _

_Rape kit - NEGATIVE_

He let out a relieved sigh and put the charts back, turning to tell Tony the good news, but his senior Agent wasn't in any fit state to talk about it. He was looking at Ziva, but every muscle in his body was taught, leaving him trembling with the effort of staying where he was, his thoughts elsewhere. The sharp turn of his head showed that he was thinking of leaving, and Jethro's stomach plummeted. Surely he wouldn't go, not after everything that has happened. Surely his love wasn't that weak. His sure wasn't.

Jenny returned to the forefront of his mind, for truthfully she never left his thoughts, and then his blood ran cold as he looked towards her charts. Would she get the all clear as well? He hoped so; he didn't want to think about her being in their clutches for over a year, powerless to prevent them from… Despair stung his heart as he looked over at the nurses who were still between him and Jenny. He needed to touch her, he needed to know she was really there; they could comb her hair at any other time! He strode purposefully over to the bed, raising his hands in mock surrender as who he assumed to be the Head Nurse started to cut him off.

He thought quickly, knowing that the nurses wouldn't force him to leave, and stopped at the foot of Jenny's bed and reached for the charts, unwilling to move away from her now he was so close. He quickly flipped to the tests page, just taking in the results before it was snatched back from him and slid back in its holder by the Head Nurse, whose angry eagle eyes watched his every move.

_STD's - NEGATIVE _

_Pregnancy - NEGATIVE _

_Rape kit - NEGATIVE_

He heaved a sigh of intense relief and ran a hand over his face, the stress of first not knowing if Jenny would live, and now of being kept away from her when she was just within reach, was taking its toll on him and any minute he would snap. For a moment the image of him pulling his gun on the nurses and ordering them to leave made him smile, but he would never do anything that brutish, especially after seeing the frightened looks on the faces of all of those women.

Tony shifted behind him and Gibbs forced himself to move away from Jenny's bed, one eye on the Nurses, the other on his teammate. Tony was vibrating with tension now, his eyes fixed on Ziva, but he stayed where he was despite the fact he could go to her at any time. Jethro shook his head at Tony's stubbornness and walked over to him. He stopped next to him, hoping that Tony wasn't having second thoughts about being here. Ziva would need him when she woke up; she probably needed him _now_ so, what was stopping him from going to her? Fear, it was written across his face. Gibbs moved closer to Tony and whispered in his ear the two choices he had to choose between now, hoping that Tony wouldn't give in to his self preservation instinct.

"Go, or run away." He said harshly to the stricken young man, and as his words penetrated Tony's mind he gave up resisting, his body moving instantly towards Ziva as fast as it possibly could. Jethro watched as Tony's control over his emotions completely left him and he sobbed freely over the young woman he loved, bringing his head to hers in an intimate gesture of love, protection and support.

The green eyed monster once again reared its ugly head and he looked over to Jenny, wishing the nurses would leave already so he could reunite with her like Tony was with Ziva. He had to be beside her now, to make up for all of the years he had spent selfishly trying to keep her away from him. There was only so much patience and control in him and they were pushing it.

He wanted to go to Jenny's bedside, to hold her hand and caress her skin one more time. It has been so long since he had just appreciated her presence that he's ashamed that it took her death to make him realise he loves her. _You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone…_ the refrain sounded in his head over and over again, and he turned his tortured eyes to the Head Nurse, watching as the ladies _finally_ all left.

The second they were gone from Jenny's bed, Gibbs was there, checking over everything they had done and making sure it was done right. He might not be a doctor or a nurse, but he had been in hospital so often that certain standard things were so familiar to him, he could do them himself. That and Ducky had taught him a few things, just in case he was ever in a hostage situation with an injured innocent.

Everything was in order, so he carefully touched her hair, the long year she had spent as a prisoner allowing it to grow out, and return to its beautiful natural colour of deep, fiery red. _Just how I always liked it_, he thought sadly, reminiscing about all the good parts of their relationship, and then the very good parts. There were no bad parts, with the exception of her leaving him, which was why it had been such a shock.

The mission had been over and done with and they had been making plans for their future, they had been on the plane, on their way home, and then she was gone. It had been so sudden that he had been sure it was some kind of joke, that she was waiting for him to exit the plane with a wide grin on her face and an explanation. She hadn't though and it had taken an hour of shouting and threatening for the flight schedule woman to tell him that Jenny had boarded another plane and was long gone.

He hadn't pursued her then, thinking that he could get over her as easily as he had gotten over Diane, but he hadn't. Jenny had taken up residence in his heart and stayed there even through the years she had been absent. Then she had come back, she had reignited the spark between them and they had spent the next three years trying to stay away from each other, while trying to always be there for each other. Then, out of the blue, she had been 'killed' and he had realised that the strange fluttering in his chest followed by the searing agony had been his heart breaking. He had realised too late that he had never stopped loving her.

Three whole years, wasted. He should have known that she was still alive, he should have looked at the body back then in autopsy, but he kept his promises, even the ones he made to himself, so he hadn't looked. Because of his own selfishness what had really happened to her had gone unnoticed, everyone had buried her and moved on, he had even burned down her house. While they had mourned her and put her to rest she had been tortured over and over.

Had she held out hope for rescue? Had she waited, hoping in vain that he would find her? When had she realised no one was coming for her? One month in? Two? Had she given up hope of being found further in to the year? Had she never given up? Or had she known from day one that they all thought she had died in the diner and were moving on without her? The most painful thought about it all was that she had thought they weren't coming because they didn't care.

The doctor had said that she wasn't waking up because she didn't want to. He could understand that all too well, his coma three years ago had lasted as long as it had because he hadn't wanted to wake up, but a presence by his bedside had lured him to consciousness. Jenny hadn't been there when he had awoken, so he had dismissed her, hoping that Shannon would walk in the hospital room and take him home but she hadn't. It had taken a long period of reflection, after Jenny's 'death', to realise that it had been her presence that he had sensed in his coma, that he had needed to carry on, but by then of course it had been too late.

Now he had a whole new chance to get it right, he knew it was his last and he was determined to make the most of it. If she really didn't want him around, he would accept defeat extremely ungracefully and only after making her think twice, three times, hell, even eleven times about letting this thing between them go. It was special, and it was obviously meant to be, who else would have been given a chance as improbable as this?

He smiled while he gazed at Jenny's pale white face, finally feeling his tight control over his emotions crumble, the tears leaking through his defences and down his face. The rosy colour of her cheeks was slowly returning, the food bag feeding straight into her stomach allowing the essential vitamins and minerals she had gone without for so long to get into her body and begin to help it function like it should. She was healing physically and he would be there to help her heal mentally. She wasn't going anywhere anymore, and neither was he. This time they would stay together, this time they would get it right.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to hopesmom, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, Tony and Ziva forever, Hiphuggers2, YourFavoriteLabPartnerEver, Tempe4Boothe, jstapny and MissJayne for reviewing! This is Timmy's point of view from when they get to the hospital onwards.

* * *

Timothy McGee leaned his head back against the wall of the hospital waiting room and shook his head. Gibbs and Tony had gone almost catatonic since they had been put in here a few minutes ago, and he didn't think that would change until they heard news on the women. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, wondering what was going on. They had buried Jenny a year ago, how was she still alive? It wasn't that he didn't care about her; he did, even though he hadn't been as close to her as the other members of the team. How would her reappearance affect them now though?

How would it affect Abby? She had been distraught when Ducky had told them Jenny had been killed, he could still remember her sharp gasp of shock and horror as what the old man was saying hit her. He could recall perfectly how useless she had felt, and how acutely she had felt the pain of her passing. He could still see the tears; hear the sobs as she broke down crying in her lab for days afterwards.

It wasn't Jenny's fault, he knew that and so would Abby, but it had taken a long time for her to lock away her memories of Jenny in the same safe place as her memories of Kate. Now though she believed Ziva was dead too, he knew that she had been waiting for him to call because she wanted to know when the person responsible was dead. How was he going to explain to her that instead of avenging her death, they had rescued her and Jenny from a Hamas camp where they had been tortured, and God only knows what else? He would have to find a way though, because she would find out, and he would rather that she found out from him first.

Timothy pulled out his cell phone and dialled Abby's number, hesitating before pressing call. Should he call Abby first? Or should he get the medical stuff out of the way and call Ducky? The hospital staff needed the medical records of both women, and he knew Ducky had them. What if he just told them at the same time? That would make things easier. Then again, maybe he should forgo telling them, just in case the women didn't make it through surgery. His mind made up, McGee cleared Abby's number and punched in Ducky's.

"Ducky? Hey it's McGee." He said casually, injecting enough chipper enthusiasm into his voice to make Abby look depressed. He cringed at how he sounded, but luckily Ducky didn't seem to notice.

"_Timothy? Where are you? Director Vance is on the prowl looking for you._" Ducky warned him, his voice dropping in tone conspiratorially. McGee stiffened and looked around nervously, hoping that no one would hear what Ducky was saying.

"He is? What did you tell him?" he asked in a frantic whisper, not sure at all why he was doing so. No one in this hospital would tell on him so it wasn't really fear of being overheard, it was more like the same instinct you get upon entering a library. Ducky chuckled at him, which made colour rush to Tim's cheeks in embarrassment.

"_Nothing Timothy, because that is what I know, although Abby was acting strangely… she wouldn't happen to know where you are and why, would she?_" Ducky asked slyly, already knowing the answer. Abby always knew what Timothy was doing; they just had that kind of connection.

"Yes she would, but please don't say anything to Director Vance, Ducky." Timothy pleaded, not at all ashamed to be doing so. Ducky was a close friend, he wouldn't go to the Director and spill all of his secrets. No one from Team Gibbs really liked the new director; Jenny would always hold that position to them. The rest of NCIS had been more diverse in their reactions to her death. Some of them had only had limited contact with her so they hadn't really gotten attached to her like they had. She had spent a lot more of her time overseeing MTAC operations and Gibbs' team than anyone else's.

Tim sighed internally; they knew now that it was because she'd had strong feelings for Gibbs, but back then she had hidden it quite well. He had always thought that she simply believed they needed to be supervised more than others because of the frequent danger they were in, which was quite a reasonable assumption when comparing their missions to those of other teams.

"_I wouldn't even if my life depended on it Timothy, don't you worry. Are Anthony and Jethro there with you by any chance?_" Ducky asked, again already knowing the answer, since Gibbs wouldn't let him out of his sight and he himself wouldn't let Tony out of his.

"Yes. Look Ducky… I need to ask you for something… it's kind of an unusual request." He started awkwardly, unsure of how to ask. If need be he could always hack in to the system and retrieve the files that way, but he wanted to do this officially, to limit the damage they were doing to their careers. He wasn't more concerned for their jobs than the lives of the women, but it was the only thing he could contribute towards, and in this time of hopelessness during the operations on the women, he needed to control _something_.

"_What is it?_" Ducky asked nonchalantly. He was happy to help, but Tim knew that would change upon hearing his request. Steeling himself for the anger that would follow, Tim charged in.

"Could you email me a copy of Ziva's medical records… and Director Shepard's?" he asked, still unable to use Jenny's name out loud. For a moment there was nothing but silence on the other end and then Ducky spoke, calmly but worriedly.

"_What do you need those for? Timothy… they are both dead._" He said gently, confused about his request and probably worried for his sanity.

"Ducky… please… you wouldn't believe me if I told you…" Tim replied, rubbing his forehead nervously.

"_Try me._" Ducky said, his voice holding an uncompromising element of steel. It was a request and a demand, one that Tim would not be able to avoid.

"They _aren't_ dead, they are both alive and here in Somalia. We went to avenge Ziva's death and ended up saving her along with Jenny and several other women-" he rattled off a brief overview of what had happened but was cut off by Ducky's hurt and angry voice.

"_Timothy. Enough. If this is a joke it is in very bad taste!_" he said, his tone cutting and harsh, despite the fact he hadn't raised the volume even slightly. It was enough to stop Tim in mid sentence though, and to make him grow cold in anxiety over Ducky's decision.

"It's not a joke Ducky… the medical records… please?" Tim begged, hoping that Ducky wouldn't just dismiss his request and put down the phone. Silence once again reigned on the other side of the connection, but then Ducky's quiet voice carried over to him, seeming to come from a much older man than the middle-aged M.E.

"_I'll get them to you soon, if you first give me proof that what you are saying is true. If you cannot do that, I will not give you the records. I'm too old for this kind of game, but it must be done._" He sighed, a strange resignation clear in his tone.

"I'll get right on it. Thanks Ducky." Tim said, ending the call and then pulling a cell phone adapter out of his coat so he could attach his cell to his laptop. The plan was to transfer the pictures on it to Ducky via email, so he could clearly see who was in the pictures and hopefully, recognise that they are genuine. It took mere seconds to attach it and transfer the pictures, now for the next step. He unplugged his phone and hit redial, putting it to his ear to listen for Ducky picking up again. Hopefully those pictures, when he saw them, would be enough to convince him.

It might seem heartless, but he had taken the pictures as the women had been wheeled away towards the operating theatre because the lighting was better. He had needed to have some proof that he wasn't hallucinating, though the silent terror of his team mates was all the proof that he needed now. There was blood everywhere on those pictures; the clean white sheets had been covered after only a few moments of contact. Ducky would know how to tell if it was real blood. The phone picked up and Ducky sighed again.

"_Ah, Timothy. I hope you have that proof._" He said, getting straight to the point instead of engaging in unnecessary pleasantries.

"I do Ducky. I've sent it to your email account." Tim said, nodding while he spoke like it would make Ducky believe him faster.

"_Alright… what have we here?_" Ducky asked himself, as he logged on to his account. McGee knew the exact moment that he accessed the email, because he let out a horrified "_My God!_" several seconds later, after intensely scrutinising the pictures Ducky spoke again, this time to Tim. "_I'll send the files to you soon Timothy; I just need to locate them._" he said, his voice raspy like he was in need of a drink.

"Thank you Ducky." Tim said exhaling loudly, relieved that one hurdle was over and done with. Now it actually seemed like he was getting somewhere.

"_How are the others?_" Ducky asked solemnly, unsure about whether he wanted to know the answer or not. Tim looked around at the two immobile men that were sitting as still as statues, their thoughts turned completely inwards as they awaited news on their respective loved one. It didn't look good for them if one or both didn't survive.

"I would say coping, but I think I'd be lying." McGee said gravely, conveying his fears for them. Ducky sighed and then moved his phone to his other ear.

"_Let me know exactly what the doctors say Timothy, I need to know if they are sugar coating anything. Make sure they get the medical files, there are notes on other surgeries, at least in Jennifer's, which will need to be taken into consideration._" Ducky ordered, trying to reign in his own fears by lapsing into his profession, using it as a shield against the possibility of pain and disappointment.

"I will Ducky, don't worry." Tim promised, already opening a word document on his laptop so he could write down what the doctor said as he said it.

"_Alright. Timothy…_" Ducky began, trailing off as he tried to think of how to word his apology, but Tim cut him off, knowing that the last thing that was needed was for Ducky to be stressed out over their minor trust issue.

"It's fine Ducky. I wouldn't have believed me, so don't worry about it." Tim said. It was the truth too. If Tony or Gibbs had told him they were bringing Ziva and Jenny out of that complex before they had done, he wouldn't have believed them. He would have called them liars to their faces before accepting what they said. It was absurd to think that two dead people would miraculously turn up alive, but they had. It was a good thing that Ducky was so open-minded.

Tim ended the call and then walked out of the room to look for the nurse in charge of admissions. She wasn't easy to spot, but it was a reasonably good guess that she was at the centre of the largest crowd. Tim had to fight wait in line for his turn to talk to her, and she almost dismissed him, but thankfully Ducky was prompt and he was able to give her the copies of the medical files. She told him she would get the files to the doctor, at least that's what he hoped she said, and then he retreated to the waiting room.

It was a couple of hours before the doctor came in to see them, and by that time Ducky had called again. He's told him that Abby was suspicious and hurt because he had told her he would call her, but then hadn't. He cursed his decision but stood by it. The doctors needed the medical records; Abby didn't need worrying. As soon as Tim put the phone down he had picked up his laptop and noted down every word that was exchanged between the doctor and his teammates, hoping that it would be enough to tell Ducky how bad or good their conditions were.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice them leave until he realised nothing had been said in a while. He groaned; the doctor must have mistaken his writing for disinterest and left him to it. He sent the message to Ducky and then turned off his laptop, concerned for its battery life, and then stashed it in its bag.

He needed some caffeine first, then he would talk to Ducky and maybe, just maybe, he would tell Abby what was going on. Was it fair to tell her though? Was it fair to keep her in the dark? She felt everything so deeply; this could negatively affect her, whichever way he played it.

He thought briefly about following Gibbs and Tony but then dismissed it. They would want to be alone with the women for a while. He shook his head and resolved to find a coffee machine. His next decision would be made after that.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to hopesmom, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, horseninja, Tempe4Booth, jstapny, MissJayne, Hiphuggers2 and HesMines for reviewing! Sorry it's late!

* * *

Ducky looked over the email that Timothy had sent him, detailing every word that the doctor had said, and he sighed heavily, sitting back in his chair. There was no mention of it, not at all. Had the doctors ignored that note in her medical file, along with the scans and opinions from several different neurosurgeons? Or did they expect her to never wake up, so it wouldn't be a problem for anyone?

On the one hand if she died it was kinder to not tell her loved ones about it, but then again to not tell them and let her recover; only to die slowly and painfully later was incredibly insensitive and inhumane. They did speak a different language though, was it possible that they simply hadn't understood what it was, or how serious it was?

Ducky made a loud and dismissive sound of disgust, logged out of his email and stood up from his desk. He wandered over to his kettle, turned on the power and flicked on the kettle, waiting impatiently for it to boil. They were doctors, it didn't matter what language they spoke; they would have been able to tell what was wrong with her from the scans. The fact they had said nothing to Jethro was disturbing and infuriating, but there was nothing he could do personally while he was on another continent. He would need to call Timothy and ask him to speak to the doctors, but that would require telling the young man about her condition.

The kettle whistled, signalling that it had come to the boil and Ducky turned off the power, lifted it and poured some water into his teapot. He put a couple of teabags into it and left it to mix, putting the caddy over it to keep it warm. Jennifer should be dead by now, he himself had estimated how long she would last before it crushed her brain, and that estimate had expired three months ago. Had her lack of nutrition slowed its growth? That seemed quite a farfetched speculation, since they could use whatever the body had available whether the person it was growing inside of ate or not.

Ducky sighed, Jethro would not be able to bury her again, but in the elderly man's mind he knew that that was exactly what they would be doing before the week was out. It had been inoperable; no doctor would have done the operation because of the extreme danger to damaging the fine tissues that bridged the two hemispheres of her brain. The tumour had already grown to the size of a grape and problems had occurred in her vision and orientation by the time she had been 'killed' in LA.

Although they hadn't been able to determine when it had first taken root, the rate of growth had been quite rapid. By now, a year later, it should be the size of a Bramley cooking apple. Her brain should have been crushed against the inside of her skull. Yet here she was; alive. Odd.

There were only two explanations; that it had been removed before permanent damage had occurred, or it had simply stopped growing. Neither of those two options were probable; she had been held prisoner and Hamas terrorists didn't usually treat their prisoners to the best doctors money can buy, also tumours didn't just stop growing out of the blue.

He shook his head, he didn't know what had happened to that tumour, but he needed to know for certain if Jennifer had any chance of survival. He was of course overjoyed to learn she had survived her ill fated trip to LA, her death had been too sudden for anyone to accept right away, but had she survived the gunshot wounds and over a year of hell just to die now?

Ducky pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts for Timothy's number. He clicked it when it appeared and brought his phone to his ear, waiting for the young man to pick up. It rang off a few times and Ducky had just poured himself some tea when Timothy finally answered on the fourth try.

"Hi Ducky, I'm so sorry, I was just getting some coffee. I couldn't hear my phone because the canteen here is so noisy." Tim apologised profusely, feeling quite foolish for not being able to pick up right away.

"Think nothing of it, dear boy." Ducky said chuckling at Tim's flustered excuses.

"Alright, thanks. Did you get what you needed from my email?" Tim asked, attempting to banish the blush of embarrassment from his cheeks.

"No Timothy, I'm afraid not. I need you to tell the doctors to take Jennifer for an MRI scan." Ducky said, his tone all business, but with an undercurrent of worry that Tim couldn't fail to pick up on.

"Ok, what do I tell them to look for?" Timothy asked, hoping that Ducky would at least trust him with that information. Ducky sighed and was silent for a moment. He probably shouldn't tell Timothy, doctor-patient confidentiality meant that he wasn't supposed to disclose any of Jennifer's medical information without her permission, but then he had already broken that hadn't he, when he had told Jethro that she had been dying just over a year ago? Ducky decided to just tell him what was going on, the less secrets kept from the messenger meant the more accurate the interpretation of his wishes would be by the doctors over there.

"At no point during the doctor's explanation of her condition did he reference her rather life threatening illness, which myself and four neurosurgeons had been absolutely certain would have killed her before now." he said gravely. This was exactly what was bothering him. Jenny could have died long before now from any of her injuries, but she hadn't. That was probably due to stubbornness and a strong will to live though, but you can't out stubborn a tumour.

"But she _is_ still alive." Timothy said his tone full of confusion. The unanimous opinions of five medical professionals was not something to take lightly, for a moment Timothy thought about what it must have felt like for Jenny; going to five different people for a second opinion only to be told by all of them she was going to die. He could even begin to imagine how hard that must have been to hear, and yet there hadn't been any outward signs during work hours that she was even concerned about something. Ziva was right; she must have been a great Agent.

"Exactly, and the MRI will hopefully give us a clue as to why." Ducky said, unconsciously nodding while he said it. The MRI would give them all of the information they would need to make a diagnosis; for better or worse.

"Alright I'll tell them now. I'll speak to you later Ducky." Tim said getting ready to end the call.

"Oh Timothy?" Ducky called out urgently, hoping that he wouldn't be too late.

"Yes Ducky?" Tim said, and Ducky let out a small breath of relief that he had caught him in time.

"Those tests that the doctor said he was running on the ladies, what are the results?" he asked, dreading the answer. Those were simple tests so the results would definitely be in by now.

"I don't know yet, I haven't been to see them or the doctor. I was letting Tony and Gibbs have some alone time." Tim answered awkwardly. Evidently he was reluctant to find out too, and Ducky couldn't blame him.

"Ah, of course. Well when you find out, could you let me know?" Ducky asked, aware that he was already asking a lot from Tim, but since he was the only Agent over there that was still thinking about the outside world, he needed to.

"Sure." Tim replied and Ducky smiled at the hesitation in his voice.

"Thank you Timothy, enjoy your coffee." he said kindly, and ended the call. Now all that he could do was sit down and wait.

* * *

Timothy sat alone in a corner of the crowded and noisy hospital canteen, staring in to his polystyrene cup as if it contained all of the answers to life, but all that passed before his eyes was the gradual cooling of his coffee. He shook his head slowly and sighed, his heart heavy. This sorry situation had momentarily gotten brighter when they had found Ziva and Jenny alive, but the tests that they had run on them had the potential to hurt everyone, and the 'rather life threatening illness' that Ducky had just told him about could be the final nail in both Jenny and Jethro's coffins.

McGee wasn't the type of person to bottle things up; he liked to know where he stood in every aspect of his life, both personal and professional, which was probably why Abby had run in the other direction initially. He wanted to find out why the doctors hadn't mentioned whatever Ducky was talking about, and if he didn't like the answer he would have Abby take care of them with her forensic knowhow.

So why was he still here in the canteen? Simple; finding out if Jenny would live would give him the answer to the outcome of two lives, not just one. He didn't want the responsibility of telling Gibbs that she was going to die, to see the anguish on his face and know that the next time he saw him, he would be dead too. He wasn't sure if Gibbs would actually kill himself, but he didn't really need to. He would be dead on the inside, merely existing rather than living.

After Jenny's first death, Gibbs had been surrounded by people who needed him to be strong, people who loved him. He had attempted to carry on like nothing had changed until after the funeral, and then getting the team back together had been his driving force to survive. He had been coming through her loss and it had looked like he might recover enough to be a semblance of the man he had been, and now this.

From the moment Tim had seen Gibbs after they had left that Hamas compound, he had known that he was looking at the old Gibbs. He had been more animated somehow, his mannerisms had been more familiar and for Tim it had lit up the road ahead more effectively than the massive headlights that truck had had. How could he do this? How could he tell him that Jenny was going to die? He briefly considered calling Ducky back and giving him the hospital number, then he could call them himself, but then he dismissed the idea. He wasn't that much of a coward.

Tim gripped his cup and knocked back what was left of his coffee before it became too cold to stomach, and then stood up. He didn't know yet if she was going to die, surely if she was going to, she would have already? She hadn't exactly had a shortage of chances. Tim carried his cup to the bin and then straightened his shoulders, he had a responsibility and he would do it whether it turned out for the better or not.

McGee strolled purposefully out of the canteen and towards the nurses' station, this time to ask for the doctor that spoke English. She had some difficulty understanding his intent, but eventually she reasoned enough of his hastily made up sign language to call the doctor. When the doctor finally showed up she sent him a relieved glance and then pointed accusingly to Tim.

"Doctor, it's nice to see you again."

"And you Agent Magee wasn't it?" he asked, having been told the name by the nurses who had been more concerned with Jenny and Ziva at the time. Tim suppressed the urge to grimace; at least he was in the ballpark.

"McGee actually, but yes. I've spoken with my Agencies Medical examiner, he was the one who held the medical records, and he expressed some…" McGee desperately searched for a word that wouldn't offend the doctor but would convey the urgency of what he was saying, "unease… that you never mentioned the life threatening illness that Jennifer Shepard has. He has asked that you send her for an MRI-"

"That won't be necessary Agent McGee, we sent her for one after she was stabilised in surgery." the doctor said, cutting him off mid sentence.

"Oh? You never mentioned anything." Tim said suspiciously. Surely they should have been told about that?

"That is because there was nothing to find." the doctor said gently, making Tim stare at him for a few seconds uncomprehendingly.

"Nothing? Are you sure? Ducky- I mean Doctor Mallard said that it was the opinion of five separate specialists that she was going to die." Tim said, not entirely sure why he was insisting that the doctor repeat that she wasn't going to die.

"And she would have, most definitely, if the tumour hadn't been removed." the doctor said, a small smile on his lips.

"Removed? When?" McGee asked, wondering when she would have had the time to undergo an operation without Ducky knowing about it.

"About a year ago I'd say, perhaps even at the same time those gunshots were looked after." the doctor replied thoughtfully.

"So she isn't going to die?" McGee asked again, the intense relief at hearing she no longer had a life threatening illness making him sag back against the wall slightly.

"We aren't sure what is going to happen to her, Agent McGee, but she will not be killed by a brain tumour." the doctor said with so much finality in his words that Tim believed him instantly.

"Thank you. Oh, what about those tests your ran on them?" McGee enquired, having momentarily forgotten about them in the face of the other miraculous news. _Surely no one could be that lucky? But then she did have her life ruined by her pursuit of an arms dealer, only to find out that she was dying after taking her revenge_, he thought distractedly. _Then a past mistake came back to haunt her, kill an old friend and then her. Maybe she was due some good luck after all_.

"All negative." he replied and McGee found himself smiling widely.

"Thank you again. Really, thank you." he said, shaking the doctor's hand enthusiastically.

"I'm just doing my job." the doctor answered modestly, disentangling himself from Tim's handhold and then excusing himself. McGee watched him go for a second and then pulled out his phone. Ducky wasn't going to believe this!


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, LyssLovesTiva33, hopesmom, horseninja, Hiphuggers2, MissJayne, Tempe4Booth, jstapny and HesMines for reviewing!

* * *

Ducky didn't believe it. It was absurd. He could understand why the terrorists would look after her bullet wounds; in order to keep her alive and able to answer their questions, but she hadn't been in immediate danger of dying from the tumour, so why bother going to the trouble of removing it? It was a waste of resources that he wasn't even sure those terrorists possessed. No, something else was going on here.

Now that he thought about it, how had the terrorists gotten hold of her body in the first place? She hadn't been alone since Anthony and Ziva had pronounced her dead. They had stayed with her until Vance had arrived on scene, which is when he had taken over the case and sent them outside to record every scrap of evidence they could find while he recorded everything inside that they hadn't gotten around to yet. She had then been transferred back here to NCIS by Vance, where her body had then remained in the presence of Ducky and Palmer.

Hadn't he made Palmer look in each body bag and label them accordingly? Could the young man have made a mistake? Ducky thought back to the moment when he had spoken to Jenny's body, only to find that he was actually talking to one of the hit men because Jimmy had put the wrong label on him. Palmer hadn't realised he had made a mistake at the time, though he had been gracious enough to immediately apologise. He wasn't usually so absent minded, how could he have gotten it so wrong during one of the most delicate and emotional periods of a medical examiners career; the autopsy of a friend?

No autopsy had been done, of course, on any of the five bodies they had received, because Vance had said that no autopsy was required. The cause of their deaths was so obvious it would be a waste of time, and also Jenny's death was going to be covered up anyway. So he hadn't done one, but her body had stayed with them, kept in storage until the funeral arrangements had been made. It wasn't possible that she was alive; it wasn't possible that she was in Somalia when she had been buried here in DC. But she _was_ alive, so maybe he needed to redefine what 'not possible' was.

It wasn't _probable_ that she could have survived four gunshots. It wasn't _probable_ that her body could have been spirited away under Anthony and Ziva's noses. It was _impossible_ that she could have survived the trip from LA to DC with those injuries without medical attention, meaning surgery, and yet the freezer van which had transferred the bodies had made it to NCIS exactly on time. Therefore something must have happened in LA, her body must have somehow been switched with another _**before**_ the freezer van had picked up the bodies, and she then must have been treated in an LA hospital.

That would mean that the terrorists had targeted her though, and watched her movements while she was in LA so they could pick her up. That would have required a lot of planning and if they had wanted her for a specific purpose, surely they would have gotten whatever they wanted long before a year was out, so why was she still alive? No, that idea didn't sit right with Ducky. So what was the alternative? Had someone got to her body and switched it out with the intention of saving her? If that was the case, why switch her body at all? Why not just say 'actually she's not dead, she just needs an ambulance'?

That only left one option; they did want to save her but they didn't want anyone to know she was alive. Why? Had she angered this person? Were they simply on the lookout for people with the potential to give terrorists like Hamas good information? Had this person wanted her out of the way? Who had the most to gain from her death?

Vance. He had gotten her job and all of the prestige that went with it. Ducky frowned; he hadn't considered that Vance would have killed for the position of Director before, partly because it was unthinkable. Had he done it though? Could he have done it? No, Ducky didn't think he could have killed Jenny for her job. He was as capable of killing as any Agent was, but he had not been especially driven to get Jenny out of the way so he could advance up the NCIS ladder.

Vance hadn't liked her though that was for certain; in fact there had been a strange tension between them when he had first arrived at NCIS during Rene Benoit's murder investigation. Vance had never believed for a second that Anthony could have killed Benoit; he had just wanted to see if Jenny would get him out of trouble by giving herself up. She had never admitted to killing Benoit, but she had cleared Tony's name by making Jeanne reveal that she had falsely accused him. He had been amused at that, why?

A terrible sense of foreboding washed over Ducky and he quickly sat down in front of his computer and wrote down everything he had just worked through in his head. Ducky cautiously looked around at the darkened autopsy room, making sure he was alone and then sent the email to Timothy with express instructions to show it to Gibbs. If he was correct, Jethro would be able to connect whatever dots there were a lot easier than he could. He hoped he was wrong though because the betrayal that was stirring in his mind was a very dark and sinister one.

* * *

Blackness was covering her, surrounding her, but strangely it wasn't stifling. Somehow it was warm and cosy though she couldn't discern any heat being emitted by it. Ziva tried to reach out, to test this strange, spongy feeling material surrounding her, only to find that there was nothing covering her. Her arms moved freely but the warm sensation didn't cease. Her outstretched arms felt like they were being dipped in this cosy fuzziness and it surrounded each individual finger without hampering their flexibility.

Where was she? She felt relaxed yet agitated, like just being relaxed was worrying her. Why though? Was she supposed to be doing something other than lounging in spongy warmth? She closed her eyes, unsure if she had ever had them opened or not because of the pitch blackness, and concentrated on finding out why she was so restless. Why couldn't she just enjoy being immobile?

Her heart rate sped up as for a moment she saw a flash of a dark, cold room in her mind's eye. The image brought terror with it and she withdrew from it. Whatever that was she didn't want to remember. Unbidden, another image came to her, of shaking with fever while another woman held her close to her, caring for her. _Jenny_.

Suddenly a torrent of images assaulted her; leaving the US, Tony's painful words, her father's disapproval, the mission he had given her, her capture, her torture… _Stop! No! No more!_ Her mind screamed, but the images kept coming, more fully now as if bits and pieces couldn't make her suffer enough. she felt it all as if she was reliving each moment of every flashback, all of the emotions and the pain hitting her at once; her first 'interrogation', being thrown into that solitary cell, being kicked into unconsciousness, the week of solitary torture, her leg being broken, getting thrown in the cell with the other women.

images swirled now around one focus, one person; Jenny holding her while she struggled to consciousness, Jenny stroking her hair, helping her to eat, keeping her throat clear after she had thrown up, trying to keep her temperature down but her body warm so she didn't get pneumonia, talking to Jenny, snuggling up at night with her so they wouldn't freeze to death, waking up and finding that Jenny had been taken while she had slept fitfully, of escaping and believing she would never see her again, seeing her dead body again.

Ziva recoiled from the image but it wouldn't leave her, it seemed like it was burned into her retinas, a permanent after image that she would see for the rest of her life. She could see the pale skin beneath the flimsy, filthy rags that Jenny had been wearing; they must have been some sort of clothing but had seen too much use to still be recognisable as such. She could see the blood coating her body, running from the long gashes that had been carved into her. She could not see a heartbeat, she could not see her breathing and she could not see her eyes twitching.

Ziva moved forwards, desperately reaching out towards the image, the compulsion that she had given over to completely back in that Hamas base taking hold of her once again. She had to be with Jenny, she didn't want to die alone, and she couldn't leave her friend to rot by herself in this hellhole. Ziva pushed her legs forwards with effort, but the oddly comforting fuzziness suddenly became thick. it was like wading through quick sand; she was moving with all of her effort but she wasn't getting any closer to the other side, just deeper into the sand.

She struggled harder; not letting this mire beat her when she had been through so much already. She had to be with Jenny, but the quicksand became more and more difficult to move through, like pack ice on the ocean. She decided to treat it as such and brutally began to swing her fists in front of her, hoping to break it up and make the going easier. It worked. The sand became less compact, her surroundings began to take on a grey tint and she let out a cry of victory. Almost there!

Ziva redoubled her efforts and watched around her as her surroundings became lighter and lighter, the dark grey turning almost into white and suddenly she was walking normally. She broke into a run of jubilation, Jenny was just ahead of her, only a little further and she would reach her goal! Suddenly her foot spasmed and she fell forwards. Her arms broke her fall but became badly bruised, and she cried out in agony. Her leg was broken! She set her jaw and crawled forwards, a strange bright light just ahead of her being her destination, but just then something hit her side. She gritted her teeth and carried on crawling, almost screaming when something else hit her stomach, passing straight through and causing her to gasp raggedly for a few moments.

What was happening to her? She struggled onwards, tears of pain coursing down her cheeks as her head seemed like it was being repeatedly struck. she wasn't giving up, not now, not when she was so close… she reached out her arms, lying just on the precipice of the brightness and she realised that that was where the heat was coming from. Against her back and her feet she felt a creeping chill and she drew them up, taking one last look behind her and then pitching forwards into the light.

Ziva gasped and opened her eyes, closing them immediately against the harsh glare from the lights that were shining in her eyes. She raised her hands to shield her gaze and she tried once more to look around. Everything was a fuzzy kaleidoscope of colour that didn't make sense, but one thing was constant; pain. The pain had followed her here, or had she crawled into the pain? She shook her head, ridding it of such strange thoughts that made no sense and she looked over to her left.

Her gaze sharpened and the colours solidified into a stable image, and her eyes widened. Jenny. She was just there. Ziva immediately reared up and hopped off of the bed that she seemed to be laying on. The moment she landed on her broken leg pain shot up from her foot into her groin and she doubled up, almost pitching forwards head first, but arms caught her. She flinched from the contact and growled angrily, savagely pushing whoever it was away from her.

"Get away from me!" Someone screamed and it took her a few seconds to realise that the words had come from her own mouth. She was confused, she didn't know where she was, why she had been lying in a bed or why someone that wasn't Jenny had tried to help her, but for the moment it didn't matter. She just needed to get to Jenny and then she could work everything else out later.

She stumbled forwards but felt something pulling on the back of her hand. She wrenched her hand forwards and a crash behind her said that something had fallen, but she didn't care. She carried on moving; hobbling over to the only clear thing she could see. She reached out as she got to the bed that Jenny was on, glad that she had waited for her. She was so still, but then death did that to people.

Ziva struggled onto Jenny's bed and settled down beside her, gathering her in her arms as her friend had done for her during her sickness. Now she could die. Now they could die together. She felt the warm fuzziness descending over her again and she surrendered to it gladly. The nightmare was finally at an end.

* * *

A.N.2: Don't worry, Ziva isn't dying there at the end, she is just full of morphine which is keeping the blanket of fuzz over her senses, and the strain of getting up so soon after surgery made her tired enough to fall asleep by Jenny's side. The beginning part was of course her struggle to regain consciousness and the closer she got to waking up, the more pain she could feel. Someone needs more morphine… lol.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to horseninja, jstapny, LyssLovesTiva33, Hiphuggers2, Tony and Ziva forever, Tempe4Booth, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, HesMines, MMWillow13 and MissJayne for reviewing!

* * *

Tim reached out his free hand for the door handle and turned it, gently pushing the door inwards and poking his head around it. His friends and teammates were each sat next to a bed: Gibbs beside Jenny, Tony beside Ziva. It was oddly silent and Tim realised he hadn't really known what to expect. He definitely hadn't thought they would be crying over the ladies' bodies, but the calm, quiet vigil hadn't occurred to him either. He could only hope that this was the normal, healthy reaction, as he wasn't so sure he could research it. Not a lot of people came back from the dead, especially not in the same manner as these two women. Perhaps Ducky could advise him further…

Thinking of Ducky brought him back to why he was now edging his way into the hospital room as silently as he could, laptop in hand. He had just received the strangest email from him, apparently for Gibbs' eyes only, and that worried him. What if the doctor had lied to him? What if Ducky had found that Jenny still had a tumour and she was still going to die? Would he decide to tell Gibbs like this? What else could be so important that he wouldn't talk about it over the phone with him? Tim took a deep breath and stepped away from the door, walking swiftly to Gibbs and standing stiffly behind him. McGee hesitantly leaned forwards and spoke to Gibbs in a low voice, not wanting to disturb Tony too.

"Boss? Ducky has sent you an urgent email…" he said lowly, watching Gibbs raise his head slightly, but otherwise remain rigid in his seat, watching Jenny's unmoving form.

"What's so urgent that he can't call me to tell me?" Gibbs asked, equally as low, but with a sharp tone that showed his displeasure at being disturbed. McGee felt his old stammer resurfacing, and it took all of his experience and will power to not give in to one of his old rambling explanations.

"Err… I don't know boss, it's for your eyes only. I didn't read it so…" he said trailing off at the end so Gibbs knew that he would have to read it himself. The older man sighed slightly and then nodded, pushing his chair back from the bed. He stood up and turned to stare at McGee, knowing that Ducky would only disturb him with very important information.

"Alright, bring me your computer." he said, waiting impatiently for his instructions to be carried out.

"Right boss." McGee nodded and quickly set his laptop down on one of the available flat surfaces, which just so happened to be the cabinet by Jenny's bed which currently had a lamp on it, and plugged in his battery adapter. The power had run down quite far now, so he would need to leave it charging while he used it.

He quickly brought up his email and then clicked on the one that Ducky had meant for only Gibbs to read. He stepped back while Gibbs took over, staring at the email in mild annoyance. That annoyance seemed to quickly turn into an expression of calculating anger. Whatever he was reading apparently made sense, but also made him angry. Tim felt his palms growing damp. This was it; Ducky really had decided to break the news to him via email. What an impersonal way to do something so delicate, didn't he care at all?

"Right." Gibbs ground out, practically growling it, and then stood up, pulling his phone out and striding purposefully towards the door. McGee watched him go, prepared to follow him out, but something made him stay. He glanced at the computer screen, wondering. Should he take the opportunity to read the email? It might help him to calm Gibbs down if he knew what the older Agent had been told, not that calming him seemed possible.

Tim hesitated for a moment more and then threw a glance at Tony, noting that the other man hadn't even so much as twitched. He was on his own with this situation then, and that required as much information as possible to help him smooth it over. Leaning down, Tim looked over what Ducky had deemed important enough to drag Gibbs away from Jenny.

_What the…?_ Tim stared, puzzled at the screen. Apparently Ducky was moonlighting as a conspiracy theorist, because what he had written seemed pretty paranoid and farfetched. It wasn't even possible- Tim slapped the back of his own head so Gibbs didn't have to, wincing when he hit himself a little too hard. 'Farfetched'? This whole situation with Ziva and Jenny was more unlikely then what Ducky had written, how could he think that it was paranoid delusion? Ducky raised some interesting points, though quite what Gibbs had gleaned from it he couldn't even guess at. All it did for McGee was worry and confuse him.

McGee logged out of his email and shut down his laptop, carefully stashing it beside Jenny's bed so that there was a slightly higher chance of Tony noticing someone walking in to steal it. Now that he had read that email, he had to know what Gibbs was doing. The last time he had gone off on his own due to something over Jenny, a suspect had 'disappeared' and Jenny's house had been burned to the ground, the suspect dead inside it. He wouldn't let his boss get into trouble without back up. With one last glance at Tony, McGee ran out of the room, hoping to find Gibbs before he did something stupid.

* * *

Tony watched Ziva as she slept, her cheeks regaining a little more colour every few minutes. He couldn't tell how long he had been here, he didn't really care either, but it felt like years. Every time her eyes moved beneath their lids his heart raced, hoping that she was waking up, but she wasn't. Every time he waged a personal war inside him, part of him telling him he wasn't worthy of staying by her side after how he had treated her, the other part not wanting to move an inch from her bedside. He still wasn't sure which part had won. He felt like a lemming running towards the edge of a cliff; on the one hand he would be away from the dogs that were chasing him, the immediate danger, but on the other hand he still might die from the fall.

He was dimly aware of McGee's entrance, but he didn't come over to speak to him, so his presence was then ignored. Gibbs' exit and then McGee's hasty pursuit of the older man hardly registered at all, since it was all happening just on the periphery of his vision. It didn't affect him or Ziva, so he didn't spare it another thought.

Her eyes roved beneath the lids once more and he was suddenly thrown back to a conversation he'd had with Jenny about REM during Gibbs' coma. His eyes had apparently been restlessly moving around, making Jenny worried about him. He recalled Jenny had almost told him something personal, something between her Gibbs but stopped just in time, though it hadn't been hard to guess what she had been about to say. He hadn't understood how she could suddenly be so absent minded about something so obviously important to her, but he did now.

He knew that if someone asked him right now, he wouldn't be able to keep his feelings for Ziva a secret. It wasn't so much a need to talk about Ziva, it was a deep need to know that she was ok and that everyone else wanted the same thing. It was a need to know that her welfare was at the forefront of everyone's minds, not just his. It was a need to let everyone know that he cared for her, that he was hurting too. Ok, it _was_ a need to talk about her, and he was powerless to circumvent that need.

Tony was watching her face as she suddenly frowned and her fingers twitched, the heart monitor beeping just a little faster, indicating she was either waking up, or in distress. He sharply sucked in a breath and all of his senses focussed on her. Was she waking up? The familiar fluttering in his stomach made him lean closer to her, yet he was suddenly halfway out of his seat, the indecision still gripping him. He should probably get a doctor, who knew how she would react if she woke up. He would like to believe that she would calm down at the sight of him, that she would know she was safe, but something told him that it wasn't very likely.

She frowned again and a gasp escaped her, her stomach contracting sharply, bringing her upper body a few centimetres off of the mattress before her muscles released and she sagged back on the bed. Was she in pain? The doctor had said she was being given morphine, so she shouldn't be, should she? She had been shot in the stomach though, surely nearly sitting up would have caused her a lot of pain. Tony made a decision and walked quickly to the door. He opened it and looked out for a nurse or a doctor, but was unable to see any.

He cursed under his breath, but his attention was drawn back to Ziva when the machines suddenly started to trill, telling him that her heart had stopped. In that second Tony froze, his heat skipping a beat and his chest tightening painfully until he heard the sound of a bedpan hitting the floor. Confusion, desperation and terror drove him to dash back into the room and he skidded to a halt at the sight of Ziva, very much alive and throwing her legs over the side of her bed, obviously intending on standing.

Tony dove forwards as her feet hit the floor, her broken leg giving way as if it was made of jelly, throwing Ziva off balance and towards the floor. He got to her just in time. Tony wrapped his arms around her waist and held her up, pulling her back up and into a standing position, her gasps of pain pulling at his heart strings. She must be confused, why else would she be trying to move around on a severely broken leg? He started to pull her back towards her bed, but she started to pull away. His grip on her was too tight for her to squirm out of though, so he redoubled his efforts. If she did any more damage to her bone she may never walk on that leg again.

"Get away from me!" she screamed at him, and he stopped moving, staring at her and trying not to take her words personally. She may not know where she is, Gibbs hadn't when he had first woken up from his coma. Ziva's hands suddenly came up between them, forcing him to loosen his hold on her, and then she turned towards him, throwing her fists at his chest. She hit him hard in the ribs, knocking the air from him and sending him crashing to the floor, winding him with the impact. His aching ribs protested the rough treatment and his plague-damaged lungs heaved, trying to draw in a breath.

Ziva hobbled away from him, pausing only to wrench her hand forwards, sending the IV pole crashing to the ground, the tubes pulling free from her skin. Her destination was suddenly very clear. She was trying to get to Jenny. As Tony finally drew in his first breath, oxygen relief making his swimming vision stabilise, he suddenly recalled something. He remembered the moment he had first found Ziva, seeing it in his mind's eye. She had been trying to crawl into a room, the room where he had then found Jenny. Was she simply trying to finish that action? Had she known that Jenny was alive in that complex?

Ziva pulled herself unsteadily onto Jenny's bed and settled down beside her, gathering her in her arms and then finally falling back to sleep. Tony tried to stand, but he couldn't force his legs to hold him. She had screamed at him to get away from her. She must have known that it was him, at least on a subconscious level. She hadn't cared though; she had simply attacked him and then walked away. The nurses finally arrived, rushing over to Jenny's bed to remove Ziva and reattach all of the wires on both women that she had dislodged during her brief conscious period.

Tony watched all of this happening as if it was happening on a TV screen. A nurse spoke to him, feeling his ribs when he didn't respond and he realised he was still gasping for breath, probably hyperventilating, but it didn't matter. He tuned everything out then, not caring to listen to the babble that he didn't understand anyway. He was suddenly and roughly pulled up from the floor, two men had grabbed an arm each and half carried him out of the room, but somehow it wasn't important.

Because she didn't want him around.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to horseninja, MMWillow13, LyssLovesTiva33, Hiphuggers2, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, Tempe4Booth, MissJayne, HesMines and jstapny for reviewing!

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was angry, damn angry, and someone was going to pay. He purposefully but reluctantly swept out of the hospital room which contained the most precious people in his world and down the corridor, not really caring where he was going as long as it led him somewhere quiet, somewhere that he could rage in without disturbing or frightening anyone. His last long glance at Jenny's pale face had almost robbed him of the strength he needed to pursue this, but he knew that it needed to be done before she woke up; before either of them woke up. If it was made known to the wrong people that they were alive they could be in serious danger.

It was fairly obvious to him that Director David had led Ziva to her death, but what he couldn't understand was why. Why would he have sent her to a camp, a Hamas camp, where her death would have been as slow, humiliating and painful as possible? It made more sense to just send one of his assassins after her and call it a murder by one of his enemies. What were the man's motivations in this?

What about Jenny? David couldn't have ordered her death to be faked and arranged her imprisonment, could he? No, he had no reason to want Jenny out of the way; she had not stepped on his toes about anything at all. Her hope for cooperation between NCIS and other Agencies had given her a thin line to walk on when dealing with them; she didn't ever want to risk displeasing them and getting shoved further down the Federal Agency food chain. Her determination had paid off too; she had elevated NCIS out from the ashes. It was possible that the Agencies that had been pushed down the list by NCIS could have lashed out, but surely no one was really that petty?

Ducky had an interesting theory about what could have happened though. Ducky's suspicions had struck a chord deep inside of him, and somehow he instinctively knew that they were not unfounded paranoid ramblings brought on by the sudden reappearance of two dead colleagues. Ducky was on to something important and the churning in his gut reinforced that view. He lifted his cell phone as he walked; searching intently for the new number that he had been given before he had set off after Tony and McGee when they had decided to run off to Somalia with no back up or Intel. If what Ducky had sent him was correct…

Jethro slowed his pace a little, some of his steam having been blown off by the power walk, but most of it still bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for an avenue of escape. He had been forced to spend the last year alone, forced to watch his team fall apart and be divided up across the world. They had found their way back together of course, but the damage had already been done. Jenny's death had stripped Tony and Ziva of their professional confidence, the team had been subdued and their family broken.

Jethro found the number he was looking for and quickly dialled; looking up and down the corridor to make sure he was alone. When he looked back the way he had come he spotted McGee following him, a look of apprehension on the young man's face. Gibbs internally rolled his eyes at the young Agent, knowing that he was concerned for him, but he needn't be. Jethro was perfectly in control of himself, he just needed to vent and he did that better during an investigation. He put his cell to his ear and waited for it to be picked up.

"Special Agent Hilliard?" Gibbs asked the moment the other person picked up.

"_Erm… hello. Who is this?_" Agent Hilliard asked uncertainly, not recognising the voice of who was speaking. If this had been an ordinary investigation, Gibbs would have indulged in a smirk because he had the upper hand, but this wasn't a normal situation, and it wasn't the least bit amusing.

"Special Agent Gibbs and I have a few questions for you." he said, his tone brooking no argument. Ducky had provided him with enough information on the coincidences of this case, and there were far too many for comfort. It was a little convenient that NCIS had some Agents stationed here when there were no missions in this area, or at least none that he knew of.

"_Alright sir, go ahead._" Hilliard said hesitantly, unsure what more he could offer to help in the investigation into Ziva David's death.

"What exactly is your mission in Somalia?" Gibbs asked, deciding to start from the beginning, to start with the easy questions, hopefully he would get the answers he needed.

"_We are a surveillance team, anything else you want to know will have to go through the Director; our orders are classified._" Hilliard answered with a touch of apology in his tone. No one likes to be told they can't know something, especially Agent Gibbs, even the probie's in the FBI knew that.

"When did your mission start?" Gibbs asked, moving swiftly on to the next question in an attempt to keep the interrogation going.

"_About a year and a half ago sir._" Hilliard answered after a moment of silent contemplation. Gibbs was unable to keep the shock out of his voice when he replied; that had been back when Jenny was still Director.

"So Director Shepard gave you this assignment?" he asked, his voice slightly incredulous despite his attempts to mask it. Surely she couldn't have known about this cell and done nothing!

"_No sir, she was on leave at the time. We were sent here by Vance when he was Acting Director in the few months prior to Director Shepard's death._" Hilliard answered, though his use of Director Vance's last name without his title did suggest to him that there was some resentment of that order. It was enough to draw Gibbs further in, and he asked the next thought that entered his head.

"Did she touch base with you once she had returned to duty?" he enquired, knowing that Jenny's first day back to work had been spent in MTAC contacting all of her international Agents and getting progress reports from them. It had been well into the next morning before she had left the building, and then that phone call had come in about Decker…

"_No sir, we were only ever contacted by Vance, before his Directorship and during._" Hilliard said, and Gibbs sighed at the constant use of 'sir' that the young man was doing. He would never get used to hearing that, it just rubbed him up the wrong way. What Hilliard was saying however sent a tingle of anticipation down his spine. Jenny had had no knowledge of this team, only Vance did, and that was something he should not have been able to authorise without running it by Jenny first.

He had only been _Acting_ Director; he hadn't had that sort of power, not for long term ops, besides; Jenny should have been notified of their placement once she had returned to her job, at the latest. Vance was keeping secrets, and it had started before Jenny's death. It hadn't surprised Gibbs how comfortable Vance had seemed in Jenny's office the moment he had stepped foot into NCIS; ambition did that to people, and it also created backstabbers and killers. The only question now was; which one was Vance?

"Thank you Agent Hilliard. If I think of anything else to ask I'll contact you again." Jethro said amiably. he didn't need to alienate Agents from his own Agency. Hilliard let out a relieved breath.

"_Ok, I'm glad to be of help sir._" he said happily. Gibbs nodded and was about to end the call when the Agent suddenly started speaking again. "_Oh sir!_" he called desperately hoping to catch him before he cut him off.

"Yeah?" Gibbs asked, somewhat impatiently, wanting to mull over what he had heard and the conclusions he could draw from it all.

"_The supply drops that go missing sir… it started almost immediately after we were stationed here, we just could never get a lead until my partner and I located that camp. I don't know if it helps but… well we didn't want to alert the Director to our problem, especially since we couldn't seem to stop it on our own. It's embarrassing for all of us down here…_" he trailed off anxiously, unsure of whether he had made the right decision about telling him. Gibbs however just nodded, more pieces of the puzzle falling into place, but leaving behind holes too big to fill with anything but conjecture. He needed evidence. He _needed_ to talk to Jenny or Ziva, or someone who knew about that Hamas cell-

The other women. Gibbs closed his eyes in a silent rebuke, why hadn't he thought of it _earlier_? They might not speak his language but they already knew that there was at least one English speaking doctor here who could translate. The only problem would be getting into see them. They had been abused in a horrific manner, would they agree to so much as sit in the same room as him? Only one way to know for sure.

"Thank you Agent Hilliard." he said emphatically, surprising the man at the other end with his heartfelt gratitude for what the young man thought of as trivial information. "Thank you." Gibbs ended the call and turned to McGee, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange. "We have work to do."

* * *

Tony ached. His breathing had finally returned to normal, but the bruising his ribs had received from Ziva stung in more ways than one. The physical pain was the less troublesome of the two; the emotional pain from what her attack had represented, at least to him, broke through his ribs and pierced his heart. She had pushed him away when he had tried to help her, she had attacked him with all of the strength in her broken body and he was ashamed to admit he deserved it.

He knew that wallowing in self-pity was an indulgence that neither Ziva nor his boss needed right now, but he couldn't help it. He had never felt so rejected, not even Jeanne's dismissal of him had hurt like this. He had been living a lie with La Grenouille's daughter, but Ziva _knew _him. She could see into him like no one else could and she had just cast him aside. He smiled, but the humour behind it was as black as it could get. Karma had found him once again. It had seen how he had treated Jeanne; building up her love and trust and then tearing her down, and now it was his turn.

Perhaps he should have known that that was all it could be, Gibbs did have rule 12 for a reason, maybe this was it; to avoid situations like the one he found himself in today. He loved Ziva, was _in love_ with her. Why had it taken something so drastic, so life changing to make him see it? His timing was dreadful, he knew that without a shadow of doubt, but he couldn't change who he was or how he reacted to things in an instant. He had always thought that Ziva of all people would understand that. He had thought that she would be there for him, to help him through his insecurities and fears about commitment so they could be together, but it wasn't meant to be.

Tony watched the nurse next to him as she gave his ribs another once-over and then put her stethoscope over his lungs to listen to him breathe. She nodded after a few seconds and then gestured to his chest. He rolled his shirt back down, hoping that that was what she was telling him and then something hit him. Not physically of course, but mentally. He was being selfish.

Oh it was one thing to _know _it, which he did, but it was another thing completely to _feel_ it. This nurse had made sure he was OK without manhandling him in any rough manner. What had he done when Ziva had fallen, when she had relied on him to help her stand? He had gripped her tightly and tried to force her back on to her bed. The basic natural instinct of anyone is to fight against or run away from stimuli that scares them. Ziva, after all she had been through, may just have been scared, and she was not one to run.

Tony shook his head at himself, disgust rising inside of him as he thought about his actions over the past few minutes. Here he had been, completely self-absorbed while Ziva and Jenny had been left alone in their room. What if one of them had woken up again? Would they have panicked when they saw all of the machines around them? Would all of the strangers have made things worse for them? Why was he still sitting here when Ziva needed him?

Tony adjusted his clothes and jumped off of the bed that he had been perched on while the nurses examined him, and then strode out of the door. He was afraid, but so what? He could deal with it. He could deal with anything for Ziva.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I only own Mira and the other unfortunate women, Doctor Ross, the desk clerk, Agent Hilliard and the others of his task force, the Hamas terrorists and the nurses in this fic. Everyone else, who is not an original character, belongs to Donald Bellisario et al.

A.N.: Sorry this is late; I just couldn't get the interview to sound right. I'm still not happy with it, but there really isn't much more I can do to it. Thank you to horseninja, Tempe4Booth, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, Hiphuggers2, AlexisSophia, MissJayne, MMWillow13 and jstapny for reviewing!

* * *

Jethro strode down the corridor, looking for the English speaking doctor, whose name escaped him for the moment, explaining to McGee what he needed him to do on the way. He was determined to get some answers from the other women that they had brought back with them from the Hamas camp, and he wanted to do it as soon as possible.

It was going to be an interrogation with a difference; there would be no two way glass to hide McGee while he listened to them talking, no rude words to get them talking and no recording devices except McGee writing everything down on his laptop. This would have to be a calm, quiet conversation to help the women feel comfortable enough to tell them about their experiences in the Hamas cell, which were bound to be horrifying even to him.

McGee listened carefully to everything his boss was telling him, knowing that it was vital that he not screw up in anyway, as doing so might cause the women to refuse to talk. Gibbs went with him to Jenny and Ziva's room to pick up McGee's laptop and check on the ladies. It was quiet in the room, peaceful even, but something was amiss. It looked like several pieces of medical equipment, and even the beds, had been moved while they had been away.

Gibbs darted forward to Jenny's side, looking over all of the tubes that were feeding her and keeping her healthy, his eagle eyes looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing was, though some of the tubes looked like they had been reinserted. That wasn't unusual though, people often pull out their tubes just by rolling over, but Jenny didn't look as if she had moved a muscle. What had pulled out the tubes then?

"Ziva woke up a little while ago." a strained voice said behind him, and he turned around, looking over to Ziva's half of the room where she and Tony were, the latter of course being the one that had spoken to him. The younger man never took his eyes away from Ziva's unmoving form, but it was obvious that he knew what Gibbs was worried about. Gibbs saw McGee pick up his laptop and then move to his friends' side, waiting for some sign that Ziva was about to wake up once more.

"Did she say anything?" Gibbs asked, watching his senior Agent carefully, slightly surprised to see a grimace cross the young mans face.

"Yeah, she said 'get away from me', and then she struggled over to Jenny's bed, dragged herself onto it and settled down to sleep next to her." Tony reported, a slight rebuke in his tone, though who it was directed at, Gibbs couldn't tell. McGee put a supportive hand on Tony's shoulder, withdrawing it when he shrugged it off, but replacing it again once he relaxed. Tony tore his eyes from Ziva to throw an apologetic glance at Tim, and then looked over to Gibbs, who hadn't yet moved from Jenny's side. "Jenny didn't wake up Gibbs, she didn't even stir." he said softly, and Gibbs merely nodded. He had been told that it had taken a while for him to decide to wake up from his coma. It had only been a few hours since they had rescued the women, why should they wake up immediately?

"McGee and I are going to interview the other women, find out what they know about their captors." Gibbs said, gently running a finger down Jenny's cheek, careful to hide the action from the other two Agents. Now that the shock of finding her alive had passed, he was trying to be less overt with his affections. She may not appreciate it once she wakes up and he'd rather not make a fool of himself. Besides, he had a job to do and the longer he spent here, the more chance there was of the person who wanted them dead finding out they were alive. "Are you ok to watch them?" he asked, gesturing to their ladies.

"Sure boss, I'll stay right here." Tony said, turning back to Ziva like she was the centre of his universe. Gibbs gestured to McGee, and the two of them left the room, confident that Tony could handle anyone that may threaten either of the women under his charge. They set off at a brisk walk towards the desk clerk that McGee had harassed several times already and the poor woman rolled her eyes as they drew near. She held up a hand as they drew closer and called someone, speaking quickly into a phone. Once the call was finished she gestured for them to wait to the side of the desk so she could continue her work.

After a few moments the English speaking doctor, Dr. Ross, appeared, walking towards them from the opposite corridor. He moved towards the desk clerk at first, but then when he spotted McGee and Gibbs he redirected himself towards them. He nodded to the clerk, who gave him a long suffering shake of the head and then chuckled.

"Agents, how can I help you?" Doctor Ross asked, smiling good-naturedly at them.

"We need to speak to the other women that we brought in." Gibbs said, watching the smile drop off of the doctor's face and he frowned.

"I'm afraid that I haven't had much contact with them, they are being looked after by female doctors. I don't know much about their conditions only that they will not want to speak to _men_ any time soon." he replied, stressing the word men in the hopes that they wouldn't insist. Unfortunately he already knew they would regardless.

"Well we urgently need to speak to them, if it could wait we would be giving them all of the time they need to recover, but it can't. You are the only doctor we know around here that can translate for us." Gibbs said, holding up a hand to stop the doctor interrupting him. He wanted the man to know how essential this talk was.

"I'm sure that whatever it is must seem incredibly important to you but-" the doctor shook his head, his tone becoming hard and slightly angry that they were ignoring him, but Gibbs cut him off before he could finish.

"Look doctor, all of the women we brought back from that Hamas camp are in danger, and talking to them could give us an edge over the people that want them dead. I know they are scared but quite frankly scared is better than dead, don't you agree?" he asked forcefully, moving closer to the doctor so that the other man had to take a step back.

"I'll see what I can do. Wait here." Doctor Ross mumbled angrily after a few moments of silence, mulling over his options. He was in a corner though; his vow to never do any harm telling him that he shouldn't let them talk to the women, while simultaneously telling him that not doing so _would_ be harming them. He was confused, but his good sense won out and he walked away from the Agents.

Gibbs and Tim watched Doctor Ross walk away; leaving them alone for however long it would take to get the women ready for their interview. Gibbs flexed his hand, uncurling it from the fist it had become during his talk with the doctor. He had been a few heated words away from punching the man, his nerves on edge. Vance would no doubt be trying hard to find out where he and his team was, he would be questioning Abby and Ducky and possibly digging into their phone records. He would know that he had spoken to Agent Hilliard and he would guess that he was in danger of being discovered in a lie… or he could be innocent. Gibbs highly doubted it though.

Doctor Ross reappeared a few moments later, his face drawn tight with tension and anger. He gestured to the Agents to follow him and then turned back to the corridor he had just walked down, setting off before they could catch up with him. Gibbs and McGee followed him to the ward that the women occupied. None of them had wanted to be split up, so they were all together in a temporarily female only ward.

As soon as Gibbs and McGee entered the room, all eyes were on them, with several of the women that were closest to them retreating to huddle on the beds with the others. They walked slowly and kept their hands in their pockets, except the hand that was holding McGee's laptop, just in case they startled any of them. Doctor Ross then introduced them in the women's native language, his voice gentle and quiet.

Three of the older women came forward a few steps, creating a barrier between the men and the other women. Gibbs recognised one of them; she had spoken a few words of English to him when he and Tony had been going to investigate the screams they had heard in the Hamas camp. The woman recognised him too; she nodded to him, but made no move to approach him. Gibbs decided that now was as good a time to begin as any, so he stepped forward and spoke, while McGee set up next to him.

"Hello my name is Jethro Gibbs, I'm a federal Agent. This is one of my subordinates Timothy McGee. We need to ask you some questions." he waited for Doctor Ross to translate what he had said and then listened as one of the women, the one he recognised, spoke back obviously being the spokeswoman of the group. Doctor Ross then turned to Gibbs and translated what she had said.

"_We will help as well as we can._" he said. Gibbs nodded and then addressed the women again.

"Thank you. Who was at the Hamas camp the longest?" he asked, watching their faces as Ross spoke. Again the woman he recognised spoke.

"_I was, I am Mira_." Ross said for her, and Gibbs hummed. He had guessed as much.

"How long were you there?" he asked, watching as the women exchanged bewildered glances.

"_Over a year perhaps, the passage of time was difficult to keep track of in that hellhole_." Mira looked away from Gibbs and squeezed the hand of one of the younger women who had hidden behind her, a few gentle sobs escaping the terrified girl.

"What did you eat there?" he asked, watching the confused expressions on the women's faces.

"_Gruel or ration bars when they were available_." Ross translated, and Gibbs nodded, his suspicions about the missing supply drops confirmed.

"Were you there before or after Jenny?" Gibbs asked and a ripple of conversation began after Ross had translated his question. Several of the women moved closer to Mira to whisper to her, keeping their eyes on the men. The nurses, who had until this point kept their distance, began to eye the men furiously as another of the younger women burst into tears from the stress of being near the men. They moved over to the crying girls and took them to the back of the ward, as far from the men as possible.

"Do you know what they are saying?" Gibbs asked Ross hopefully. The women looked like they were conferring on a lie, and the fact he couldn't understand them was getting on his nerves.

"No, it's too quiet to distinguish." Ross said apologetically. Mira eventually turned back to the men and spoke slightly hesitantly.

"_Just after. She had arrived the day before me_." Ross translated, and Gibbs watched Mira carefully that sounded like the truth, so what were they conferring about?

"Do you know where from?" he asked, a surge of hope in his voice.

"_No. She told me of another camp, a better one than the one we were in, but she could not remember being taken there; just that she had woken up there. She was then rendered unconscious for the transfer to the camp you found us in._" Ross translated, his eyebrows rising at what he was being told.

"Do you know why any of you were brought there?" Gibbs asked, slightly disappointed by her lack of knowledge.

"_They wanted more women_." she replied simply, a look of disgust on her face.

"For what?" McGee asked automatically, but the absolute silence that followed his question made him look up from his laptop and flushed in embarrassment at the incredulous look Ross and Gibbs were giving him. "Right." He looked back down and resumed typing, just glad that Ross hadn't even bothered to translate the question.

"Did anyone visit her? Or check up on their progress?" Gibbs asked them women, but they just shrugged.

"_Progress? No one visited us unless they wanted to violate us, or torture us. They hardly spoke unless they wanted to taunt us, to dirty us with their foul words and actions._" Mira said, anger colouring her voice and she gestured wildly at the other women.

"Do you know what information they wanted from Jenny?" Gibbs hoped that she would at least know this.

"_She never spoke of it. They would listen outside the doors sometimes, just in case we talked amongst ourselves. We never spoke of anything like that in case one of us tried to bargain for our bodies. We did not want to put our friends in such a position as to choose between rape and betrayal._" Mira explained, her tone suggesting that it had happened before, and was something they avoided at all costs. If that was the case he may be wasting his time here, they wouldn't have spoken of anything that could help him.

"Do you know anything about the leader?" he asked, persisting despite the hopeless outlook of this interview.

"_He was an evil man. I hope his spirit is in eternal torment_." she said, and several of the women voiced their approval of her words.

"Alright, what about Ziva, do you know anything about her?" Gibbs enquired, getting to the end of the questions he had to ask.

"_Yarah overheard them speaking of her during… when she was in their company._" Mira said, gesturing to the young lady whose hand she was holding. She attempted to make the girl speak up, but she shook her head and whispered to Mira instead. "_They spoke of being paid to keep Ziva alive as long as possible, that is all she knows._" the young girl called Yarah hid her face, but still nodded to Mira's words.

"Thank you Mira, Yarah. I think that's all we need." Gibbs said. They didn't know much more than they had originally, other than the confirmation that the supply drops that had gone missing had been stolen by this cell almost as soon as the NCIS team had been sent to Somalia, which meant they had known they were being stationed there. The payment that the young girl Yarah had heard about might be able to tie Eli David to Ziva's predicament though. They exited the ward and went straight back to Jenny and Ziva's room, where McGee would hopefully be able to trace the payment in peace.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Thank you to Zudepom, jstapny, LyssLovesTiva33, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, MMWillow13, MissJayne, Hiphuggers2, Tempe4Booth and HesMines for reviewing!

* * *

Abby stood awkwardly to attention as Director Leon Vance walked past her, pacing her lab and idly checking over the tests that she was running for one of the other NCIS teams. Her machines were all busily whirring away, compiling a chemical analysis and other things, which he didn't usually show any interest in. So why was he checking over what she had found so far, glancing at the data she had printed out and what was on her computer screens?

She quietly huffed as her nerves gave way a little to irritation. She had been waiting for Timmy to call her with an update, waiting for _hours_, when Vance had disturbed her, just wandering in without saying a word. He hummed at something on her computer screen and all of Abby's irritation suddenly disappeared, replaced once again with nerves and she fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she waited for him to say something to her.

One of her instruments dinged and she jumped. She hesitated, should she get the results and act like he wasn't there, or ignore the results and wait for him to address her? She hated the way he was making her feel. It was almost like he was on purposefully making her believe she was unwelcome in her own lab. No one had ever done that to her before, not even Chip and he had attacked her with a knife, so she was understandably put off initiating a conversation with Vance. She decided to wait for him to speak and nervously cleared her throat. He didn't acknowledge her presence until a few minutes had passed, and then he looked up at her, an eyebrow raised and a toothpick halfway towards his mouth.

"Aren't you going to get that, Ms Sciuto?" he asked airily, and she jumped at his words.

"Erm… yes Director…" she answered falteringly and then scurried over to her equipment, a small shudder of anger and embarrassment flushing through her. How dare he? This was her lab, not his! He couldn't just walk in here and humiliate her like that!

"Does my presence here distract you?" he enquired slyly and she felt her patience snap. She spun around on her heel to face him and crossed her arms.

"Quite frankly Director, yes." she replied and was gratified to see his shocked expression. _I bet he wasn't expecting me to actually stand up to him!_ Emboldened by that thought she barrelled on with her angry speech. "You just walked in here five minutes ago, without a word, and then proceeded to look over my work, still not saying anything to me! I find that pretty darn rude! You would have had plenty to say if I had just barged into your office and decided to ignore you and look over your stuff!" she cried, furiously retrieving the test results that had demanded her attention earlier. She looked them over and put them to one side, turning back to Vance in time to see him nodding contritely.

"I understand, Ms Sciuto. I also understand that you are very close to Agent McGee and that the instinct to cover for him, to protect him, must be strong." he said, and Abby frowned at his words. What was he talking about? _Wait, is this an interrogation?_

"I don't-" she began but he cut her off, apparently having built up enough of his own steam.

"I have been all around this building several times and I am still unable to find him and the rest of his team." Vance said, circling around Abby so he could walk through the glass doors into her office area. He looked around and then wandered back to her. "You, however, have been in contact with Agent McGee." he said, surprising her with his knowledge. "He called you a few hours ago." he continued and she felt the shock register on her face before she could stop it.

"Well… yes." she replied, all of her bravado gone like a puff of smoke.

"What did he want?" Leon asked the question like it didn't really matter to him one way or another, but she knew that he was very interested to know why three of his Agents had disappeared, although he really should have given them some slack. They had just found out they had lost a very dear friend. Surely they should be allowed to grieve for her where they feel the most comfortable, even if that place was home?

"To talk to me." she answered at last, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I realise that. What did he say? Did he tell you where he was?" he asked and suddenly a stray thought entered Abby's mind. _What if he was worried about them?_ As soon as she really thought about it, she dismissed the idea. He wouldn't have wasted so much time ignoring her and then asking questions, he would have just come down, told her the situation and then asked her about what she knew.

"He just asked me how I was." she said eventually, secretly enjoying the anger she could see bubbling beneath the surface of his façade.

"Ms Sciuto, I _know_ that your phone call lasted for half an hour. What _else_ did he say?" he asked, making the effort to stay calm. Abby shrugged but decided that she may as well tell him what they had talked about.

"He was having car trouble and I helped him out." she replied, shrugging and crossing her arms.

"What kind of car trouble?" he asked with a slight edge of surprise in his voice.

"He'd run out of fuel so I told him how to siphon it from another vehicle-" Abby began, but Vance held up a hand to stop her from talking.

"A federal Agent was stealing fuel, and you were telling him how?" he asked incredulously and Abby realised her mistake.

"He wasn't stealing it!" she cried quickly and defensively on McGee's behalf, even though she didn't know if he had been or not. It hadn't been important at the time.

"You don't have to siphon from reputable dealers, Ms Sciuto." Vance replied a little condescendingly and Abby felt her cheeks redden with outrage. She couldn't even recall the last time she had been so angry this often.

"He was borrowing some from Gibbs!" she declared, her posture rigid and angry. Vance smiled and relaxed, nodding slowly to himself.

"So he _is_ with Gibbs." he said, and Abby winced. Well there was no way that he wouldn't have found that out anyway. "Where?" he asked again.

"I don't know!" she replied half-heartedly and he didn't even bother to get angry, he simply turned to her computer and smiled at her.

"Yes you do. You left your hack running." he said, gesturing to the computer he was standing next to. "Looks like flight information… for my three UA Agents." he said tossing a glance at her over his shoulder. "Flights to-" his eyes grew wide for a few seconds and then narrowed as he violently tapped at her keyboard, checking when they had left the US and when they had landed. After a few tense seconds he turned away from the computer and advanced on Abby, pulling his toothpick out of his mouth and tossing it in the general direction of the bin. "Why are they in Somalia?"

"I don-" she tried to reply but he furiously cut her off once again.

"I'm tired of your feeble attempts at subterfuge, Ms Sciuto! Why are they in Somalia?" he demanded and Abby had had enough. She drew herself up to her full height, which in the platform boots she was wearing made her quite a bit taller than Vance. _Why was he getting all angry about where they are?_ The calm part of her mind wondered silently, but the rest of her ignored it for now.

"Tony was devastated that Ziva had been murdered! He was also very upset that _you_ didn't even _bother_ to tell anyone!" she said, steadily raising her voice until she was shouting at him, stalking closer to him and jabbing a finger at him. "Do you know what it's like to lose your partner? Do you even know what it's like to lose someone at all? They were _everything_ to each other! So yes, he's gone to Somalia to track down the guy that took her away from us, and Timmy and Gibbs have gone to help him!" she raged at him.

No one moved or spoke and the sudden silence after her outburst took the wind right out of her sails almost immediately, but this time she clung to her anger, refusing to let it leave her vulnerable now. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, watching suspiciously as Vance relaxed and nodded gratefully.

"Thank you Ms Sciuto, for your help." he fished out a fresh toothpick and inserted it into his mouth, chewed it thoughtfully and then left her lab, chuckling to himself as he went. Abby watched him go with a certain amount of ambiguity. On the one hand she was relieved that he wasn't angry with her or McGee, but on the other she was worried that he was taking it so well. Why did he nearly have a panic attack about them being in Somalia and then relax once he found out they were going to kill someone there? Abby shook her head and resolved to pass along her observations to McGee at the first opportunity.

* * *

Eli David slowly shuffled the papers he had looked over and signed off on, and then piled them neatly to one side of his immaculate desk. The signed pile was nearly as high as the unsigned now, but he still had other reports due in from his Officers and Assassins who had completed their assignments. Those would add another several hours to his official duties and then the inspections he had scheduled for today would have to either be pushed back until tomorrow or he would have to forgo his paperwork yet again.

He sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. The backlog of paperwork had steadily been decreasing over the last few weeks, but every report he read reminded him of why he was working so late every night. He had made a decision that, at the time, had been the best for everyone concerned but now… now he wasn't so sure. Had he really done what he had thought was best, or had he just reacted out of anger?

He wearily reached a hand to his left and opened a drawer, pulling out the only picture he had of all of his children together. Tali, Ari and Ziva were all so young in the picture, so innocent and all with such bright futures. He wasn't ashamed to say that he had expected to lose Ari long before he had been forced to order Ziva to execute him, but he had hoped that he would have at least fathered a few children of his own before that had happened. He hadn't though, Eli knew because he had looked up every woman Ari had been seen with and none of them had borne a child for him.

Ziva, his second child, had been another he had expected to eventually say goodbye to. She had been so headstrong and stubborn he had been sure she would run headlong into an ambush, but she hadn't. She had outlived all of the others and while on some level he had been proud of her, had loved her; the majority of him had resented her more. Tali had been his favourite; she had been the perfect daughter and would definitely have made him proud, but she had been taken from him too soon, far too soon.

He groaned and pressed his hands gently over his closed eyes, hoping to soothe the headache that was raging inside his head, but to no avail. Had he sent Ziva to her death, paid for her capture and torture even, through anger about something she could not have known about? Was he really that cruel? Yes, he had to be. One didn't become Director of Mossad through acts of charity, and betrayal of the likes of what Ziva had done had to be punished.

There was a knock at the door and he dropped his hands to the surface of the desk, opening his eyes and staring at the closed door in irritation. Whatever this person was disturbing him for had better be damned important. He took a deep breath and put the faded photo back in its drawer, calling out for his visitor to enter. A young man walked in, the young Agent that dealt with tips, and then stopped at attention before Eli's desk.

"Yes?" he asked the young man.

"Director David, I just received some information from one of our informants that may interest you." he said, bringing forth a piece of paper from behind his back. Eli frowned and leaned forward.

"Where is this informant based?"

"The Somalia hospital."

* * *

I hope you liked this one. It seemed well past time for the opposition to find out what was going on, particularly Eli David.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I only own the original characters in my stories.

A.N.: Well I'm back! I'm very sorry about my long absence but it couldn't be avoided. Real life sucks. Thanks for being patient with me and thank you to horseninja, jstapny, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, LyssLovesTiva33, Hiphuggers2, MMWillow13, ladybugsmomma, Tempe4Booth, MissJayne, AlexisSophia, Ayakae and HesMines for reviewing!

A.N.2: The Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical center in LA was chosen because I looked through a neurology and neurosurgery ranking and it was the LA hospital highest on the list. The tumour figures are a reduced figure from what i found on Wikipedia.

* * *

Timothy McGee followed Gibbs through the corridors of the Somalia hospital, heading back to Jenny and Ziva's room. His lightweight laptop was tucked under his arm and he thanked his lucky stars that he had thought to bring it with him. They would never have found the Hamas camp if he hadn't brought it. Well that wasn't really true; they probably would have found it, but it would have taken much longer and they wouldn't have made it in time to save the women. Now his laptop was about to be used to hopefully track the payment that Yarah had heard about.

They reached Jenny and Ziva's room and Gibbs slipped inside. McGee followed him, making sure there were no nurses in the room before closing the door behind him for a little privacy. Tony had switched sides; he was now sitting on Ziva's left, his eyes roving over her face as if he expected her to open her eyes any second. Her eyes stayed closed however, so McGee shook his head sympathetically and headed over to the cabinet beside Jenny's bed, which he was going to use as a desk. A sound from Tony made him look back at him though, and he was surprised to see that Tony was no longer sitting and staring despondently; he was standing by Ziva's side and pointing at her nose with a murderous expression on his face.

"Her nose is broken." Tony said, quietly but forcefully, disbelief colouring his words. He looked up at Gibbs and repeated what he had said a little louder. "The doctor never said anything about that!" he added indignantly, and McGee watched as Gibbs approached Ziva and took a cursory look for himself.

"It's obviously had time to heal and it looks like its straight. It's hardly life threatening DiNozzo." Gibbs said shrugging. The women had more serious injuries to worry about than a broken nose.

"No, I know but…" he trailed of helplessly and resumed his silent vigil, fuming to himself. McGee frowned. He was with Tony on that one. The thought of anyone hitting Ziva in the face just made his blood boil. He was lucky he could shrug it off easier than Tony though, so he shook his head and got to work. He wasn't going to help anyone by standing around.

Tim set up his faithful laptop and got straight to work on trying to hack into Eli David's bank account, which was very high risk and quite difficult. Five minutes later he was in, but it wasn't good news. He frowned and carefully looked over every money transfer for the last few months, but he couldn't see any that weren't perfectly legitimate. There were a few standing orders for bills and payments for random home appliances, nothing out of the ordinary. He shook his head, took a deep breath and continued scouring through the list of purchases of socks, a razor, a few ties, business suits, a very expensive necklace… all normal.

McGee's jaw suddenly dropped. All of this was _way_ _too_ normal; he was looking at a front account. McGee gulped nervously. He was now in the unenviable position of telling Gibbs that he had nothing, that Eli David's bank records were as suspicious as the average Joe's and there was no way to find incriminating evidence without knowing what name he used for his 'business' transfers. It was to be expected though wasn't it? He was a high profile target; of course he would use different accounts for his personal and professional lives. Tim himself used different accounts for his royalty cheques from his book sales and his salary.

"Boss? Problem." he called out, attempting to keep the volume down in case he disturbed anyone. He heard Gibbs approach him and then he sat back so that the older man could look over his shoulder easier. "Eli David must use a separate account for his business deals; problem is I can only find this one attached to his personal information." McGee reported apologetically. This was exactly the kind of setback that they didn't need.

"You can't find his other accounts?" Gibbs asked his voice low and carefully controlled. McGee shook his head.

"Not without at least knowing what name it's under. He's been very careful to not leave any traces; he doesn't even transfer money between this account and any others." Tim said, scrolling through Eli's mundane shopping list. "Do we have any aliases for him on file?" Tim asked hopefully.

"No. No, we don't." Gibbs said, straightening up and casting a thoughtful glance back at Ziva. "But Ziva might know one or two. We'll just have to wait for her to wake up before we can pursue her father." He said his voice strained. He thought for a moment and then leaned back down towards McGee. "Ask Ducky what kind of price tag comes with surgery to remove a brain tumour, and then find out how many have been done in the last two years." he said quickly, as if the idea had just come to him.

"Worldwide?" Tim asked, considering the possibility that the operation could have been done in another country to keep the risk of her being identified to a minimum. He hoped that the number was small; _a breakthrough would be nice right now_.

"Well we aren't in the US anymore, McGee, who knows where Jen had that surgery." Gibbs said thinking back to Ducky's email. "But if any were in LA…" he trailed off significantly and Tim nodded, easily understanding what he was alluding to.

"Got it boss." McGee said, quickly flipping his phone open and finding Ducky's number as Gibbs returned to Jenny's side. He pressed call and waited for Ducky to pick up.

"_Yes Timothy? Have they regained consciousness yet?_" Ducky asked immediately upon answering his phone, not wasting any time with preliminaries.

"Ziva woke up a while ago, but she… wasn't aware of her surroundings and dropped back to sleep." he said quietly, looking over at Ziva's sleeping form.

"_Oh dear. Nothing yet from Jennifer, then?_" Ducky asked softly, worry evident in his tone.

"I'm afraid not. Ducky, how much would the surgery for removing a brain tumour be?" McGee enquired, ready to note down the amount.

"_Incredibly expensive, though Jennifer could have afforded it quite easily._" Ducky responded. "_It can be anywhere over $600,000 depending upon how complicated the surgery is, how long your stay is in hospital, prescription costs, etc._" McGee's eyebrows rose at the amount, it was a hell of a lot.

"Then why didn't she have the surgery?" he asked, confused. Ducky sighed.

"_It was deemed inoperable Timothy. That means either it's impossible to get to, or the patient wouldn't survive the surgery to remove it. In Jennifer's case it was a little of both. Whoever performed the surgery took an unconscionable risk with her life. If anything went wrong she could have at best died, and at worst become a vegetable. Jennifer decided she would rather die with her faculties intact than live bedridden and relying on nurses to feed and clothe her. She was far too vain to even consider radiation._" Ducky said, chuckling sadly at the end as if recalling a private joke. Tim couldn't blame her for her choice judging from Ducky's description. It was no way to live.

"But the gamble paid off in this case." Tim said, looking away from Ziva's prone form and now focussing on Jenny. A little colour had returned to her cheeks, but she showed no signs of waking up. Tim's eyes flickered over to Gibbs. His boss stood silently keeping watch over everyone, his face drawn into a carefully blank mask. Gibbs then blinked and looked at McGee, raising a questioning eyebrow. Tim ducked his head and turned back to his computer.

"_It __**seems**__ that way Timothy, but until she awakens we can only guess at what the damage could be._" Ducky replied sadly. Tim started the search going and sighed. What would they do if Jenny was seriously brain damaged? What _could_ they do?

"Thanks Ducky." he said wearily, watching as the results started to appear.

"_You are more than welcome Timothy. Have you spoken to Abby yet?_" he enquired archly. Tim frowned and then closed his eyes. He knew he had promised to call her, but he couldn't speak to her just yet. Abby had a way of drawing him in, of making him tell her all of his most closely guarded secrets. How was he supposed to keep something this _big_ from her?

"No, not yet. Why?" McGee asked cautiously, half expecting Abby to snatch the phone and reply herself.

"_She seemed quite distressed the last time I saw her. She asked some rather pointed questions that I did my best to deflect, but I doubt she will give up. Apparently Director Vance was questioning her over your whereabouts._" Ducky answered seriously, his mistrust of the man and concern for Abby leaking through in his voice. Vance was fast becoming the main suspect in Jenny's appearance at the Hamas camp; perhaps he and Eli David were working together…

"What did she say?" Tim asked hesitantly and Ducky chuckled.

"_You will have to ask her that._" Ducky responded. "_Goodbye Timothy._"

"Bye, and thanks Ducky." Tim said, ending the call and looking over the completed search list for the last two years. It was staggering. The figures from all around the world were so high it was almost unbelievable, with about 70,000 in the US alone. McGee swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat and brought up the specifics of the US results, discounting the cases that were treated by chemotherapy and radiation therapy, which left about 28,500 brain tumours treated with surgery. He let out a harsh breath and shook his head. All of those people had been in the same position as Jenny. How many of them had been children? Mothers? Fathers?

McGee sighed and quickly narrowed the search further, leaving only the amount of surgeries from LA during the last two years, which was still a very big number, 1,700. Tim eliminated the results from before Jenny's 'death' and from the last six months, narrowing the list down further to just under 500. He nodded to himself. That was a better figure to work with, if only he knew which hospital she had been in! He glanced over at Gibbs and then frowned when a thought struck him.

"Boss, why did you need me to find out how much the surgery cost?" Tim asked, confused. He didn't need to know that in order to search for surgery's in LA. Gibbs tore his concerned eyes away from Ziva, who seemed to have momentarily caught his attention, and he approached McGee. He looked over Tim's shoulder at the results as he answered.

"I want you to see if Leon paid for the operation." he said, his voice low. McGee looked up at him sharply, not quite sure he had heard him correctly.

"You think he wanted to _help_ her?" he asked incredulously. A moment ago Director Vance was a suspect, now he's a guardian angel? Gibbs narrowed his eyes at Tim's laptop and shook his head.

"I think he's the kind of man who feels the need to do something right when he does something _wrong_." Gibbs replied meaningfully. McGee frowned, that was a strange way to behave, especially for someone as self-serving as Vance, but then maybe his opinion of him was being coloured by recent discoveries. After all, he hadn't thought these things before this trip to Somalia, had he? "Hack into his bank account and see if he paid out anything near that amount of money around the time of Jenny's _'death'_." Gibbs instructed, indicating the very large number that Ducky had given him, while straightening up and folding his arms across his chest.

"Right boss." McGee said, quickly getting to work on hacking into Vance's bank account. It took him longer than he would have usually taken because he had to avoid some custom detection bots, which Vance had likely implemented himself. He scowled, with so many bots protecting his personal information he had probably alerted Leon to the intrusion, but with any luck Vance wasn't near a computer and wouldn't find out until much later, by which time McGee hoped to have what he needed. It was so much easier when the people he investigated had no idea how to use technology! Tim scoured Vance's expenses and quickly found what he was looking for. Obviously the backstabbing Director of NCIS wasn't as careful to hide his tracks as the Director of Mossad.

"Boss, I found it. A huge bill of $750,000 paid to the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical center." he said, twisting around to face Gibbs. "A huge blow to his account balance, but the salary that comes with being Director quickly smoothed it over. The transfer was made two weeks after… Jenny's… death." McGee said awkwardly. Thinking her name and saying it aloud to Gibbs were two different things, he was always tempted to call her 'the Director' in front of him. It just seemed disrespectful somehow to use her name, like he was trying to claim a familiarity that wasn't there, and unlike Tony, Ziva, Ducky and Gibbs, he hadn't gotten to know her very well before… all of this.

"Good work McGee." Gibbs said, nodding thoughtfully to himself.

"And… there's something else…" He trailed off, looking down the list of Vance's expenditures. It was a lot more varied than Director David's and Tim had noticed something; regular, large withdrawals of money every week for two months afterwards. He pointed them out to Gibbs, but since Vance had withdrawn cash there was no way to track where the money went. Another dead end.

* * *

"An expensive mistress maybe? Or blackmail payments? Someone could already be onto him." McGee suggested, but Gibbs shook his head. He was currently looking over Tim's shoulder at the list of withdrawals that Leon had made in those two months, frowning. He had a good idea what that money had been used for, and unfortunately the recipient would be less than likely to switch sides, even for a higher price.

"He's devoted to his family, McGee; I doubt keeping another woman would be his style." He told the young Agent, keeping his suspicions to himself. There was no need to voice the opinion that Vance had more than likely been paying the group that had tortured Jenny, paying for any information they could extract from her and their silence in the matter. It might have been a big leap, but hid gut told him he was right.

"Uh, boss? If Director Vance was alerted to my breaking in to his bank records should we warn Ducky and Abby?" McGee asked, worried for the ones they had left back home. Gibbs was a little anxious as well, but Leon was not fool enough to actually try and harm them.

"I'll take care of it." Gibbs replied, a little lost in thought. He would need to go back to NCIS, to confront Leon and make him confess to this. Hopefully they would be able to find the terrorists that he sold Jenny to and take them down. How had Leon even managed to strike a deal like that? As far as Gibbs knew, Hamas had no interest in Leon and vice versa.

"Ziva?" Tony's quiet, expectant voice spoke up on the other side of the room and both Gibbs and McGee quickly abandoned the laptop in order to find out what was happening. Disappointingly it appeared that _nothing_ was happening. Gibbs attempted to reign in his sigh as Ziva simply slept on and Tony's hopes were crushed, frustrated himself at the lack of response from the women, but then something caught his eye. Her eyes were moving. Not fast and erratic as they did in REM, but slow and following every noise in the room. She was awake; she just didn't want to reveal that fact yet and considering where she had been, he couldn't blame her. There was nothing to do but wait for her to make the first move.

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A.N.3: Ziva's point of view next. I didn't want to rush into the awakening, but it feels right to do it now.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I only own the original characters.

A.N.: I didn't want to make Ziva into an Ice Queen, so she will show her emotions here. Thank you to LyssLovesTiva33, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, horseninja, ladybugsmomma, Tempe4Booth, MissJayne, jstapny, AlexisSophia and MMWillow13 for reviewing!

* * *

Ziva David ached all over. The moment she woke up, pain was the first thing she was aware of, but thankfully she had the presence of mind to control herself. She didn't cry out, she barely even winced, careful not to tip off her captors the same way she had while she had been alone in that cell. Once burned, twice shy… no, that wasn't right. Close enough though.

She tried to keep her face neutral and relaxed, and had to concentrate hard on doing so when she realised she was lying on a mattress, with a warm sheet pulled over her. There were no beds in the cells she had been in, only cold hard floor with a few scruffy and worn blankets. Was this another trick? A stray thought left her cold… she wasn't wearing her clothes. Whatever she _was_ wearing it was flimsy and draughty… had she just joined the other group of women? Was the concession that she was going to be violated but at least it would happen in a comfortable place?

A noise caught her attention and it took all of her energy not to leap out of bed and assume a defensive stance. It sounded like rain hitting a plastic roof, but it was too irregular to be that. It kept stopping and starting… was that a keyboard? Was someone typing? She gritted her teeth, imagining the smug bastard that was writing up his report, probably to her father, telling him of their progress. _Or lack thereof_, she thought, grimly happy to have not told her captors anything, either useful or not. She wouldn't break; no matter how long they kept her here, or what they did to her.

"He's devoted to his family, McGee; I doubt keeping another woman would be his style." a voice said quietly from where the typing was coming from, making Ziva jump and her heart almost stopped. McGee? No, it was _not_ possible… surely he hadn't been captured too? Maybe it was a trick. Perhaps she had spoken in her sleep and mentioned McGee's name and they had picked up on it.

She strained to listen for more just in case. She could have misheard, or she could simply be hearing things. No more was said though, but she could hear heavy breathing. Someone was in the room with her, perhaps more than one person; did they know she was pretending to be asleep? She certainly hoped not. Her last few welcomes to the waking world had been… unpleasant.

"Uh, boss? If Director Vance was alerted to my breaking in to his bank records should we warn Ducky and Abby?" she heard McGee ask, and a surge of hope sprang forth before she could stop it. They were here to rescue her; they had come for her after all. Then some metaphorical water doused her hopes; how did they know she was missing? Her father wouldn't have told them she was alive, he wouldn't make that kind of mistake after going to the trouble of sending her to her death.

"I'll take care of it." a voice said again, and this time she could tell it was Gibbs, or someone doing an award winning impression of him. She swallowed hard, feeling tears threaten in her eyes and she was very glad that they were tightly closed. She wouldn't cry now, but it was all so hopeless. They weren't there; she must have just gone mad. There is no way they could have found her; the camp was in the middle of nowhere in another country, and after the way she had acted towards them, what she had said… no they weren't here.

"Ziva?" Tony's steady, kind voice floated to her ears and it was almost her undoing, but she remained strong. She could just open her eyes and dispel this cruel illusion, but part of her needed the comfort that their voices gave her. She needed to think they cared, that they would come and save her when she needed them. They would have too, before, but not now. Instead she just listened to the sound of their breathing, using it to quell the fear and loneliness.

Someone touched her hand and she jerked it back out of their reach, her angry and yet fearful eyes flew open, searching for the culprit… and finding Tony, McGee and Gibbs looking down at her, so full of concern. No one spoke as Ziva stared up at them, disbelief and confusion written clearly on her face. If this was what going mad was like she couldn't say she didn't like it. Here they were; her team, her friends. After everything she had said and done they were still here for her. A wave of giddy happiness washed over her, causing a huge smile to break out on her face. It disappeared as soon as McGee asked her an innocent question.

"Are you ok?" The naked sincerity in his voice and expression replaced her smile with a frown and a _longing_ for a good cry. She fought it off, pushing the impulse away. She wasn't going to burst into tears, she was stronger than that. She blinked rapidly for a moment, ridding her eyes of that horrible mistiness, the sadness changing to anger.

They watched her, waiting for her to answer McGee's question but she couldn't. If she tried to speak now… she couldn't embarrass herself like that. She had endured weeks of torture, she wouldn't be undone by a friends' childlike query! She took a deep slow breath, not taking her eyes from them all in case they disappeared. What if this was an illusion? A narcotic hallucination? What if her captors were really listening just out of view for her to trip up?

The hand once again sought hers, the warm skin of Tony's hand wrapping around hers and her control almost snapped, but she hung on. She clamped her hand around Tony's and breathed slow through her mouth, trying to stem the slight hysteria she could feel bubbling below the surface.

They were really here, it was irrefutable. An impostor would have begun questioning her already, and a hallucination would be telling her how much they care for her, how valued she was, and so on; but _they_ weren't. They were keeping silent, as if they feared they would say the wrong thing to her or scare her, but that wouldn't happen; it just wasn't possible. She knew she was safe with them and that she could trust them.

She cautiously looked at her surroundings, seeing generic hospital décor and the machines that she was hooked up to. A hospital? Where? How had they found her? A memory came to her, of waking up confused and angry, of making her way to Jenny… Ziva craned her neck to look past the silent trio before her, and couldn't stop the slightly panicked expression from crossing her face. Had she gotten to Jenny in time?

"She's fine, Ziva, she's safe. And so are you." Gibbs said softly, drawing her back to reality. There just behind them was Jenny, asleep on a bed identical to her own. Gratitude welled up inside her, to whom she couldn't say. To them for rescuing her? To Jenny for staying alive? To herself for not giving up on her friend, even when she thought the worst? It was probably a mix of all three and more. To say she again felt the stirrings of hysteria would be an understatement. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both.

The hot tears spilled down her cheeks, Tony's grip on her hand lessening, allowing her to pull it away and try wiping at them. A sob caught in her throat and bubbled into a laugh, then another, spurring Tony into action. He leaned down and hugged her gently, not wanting to hurt her or make her feel trapped. Gibbs placed a hand on her head making her laugh harder, because it touched her deeply.

McGee grinned at her, scooping up one of the hands clutching Tony and rubbing a finger over her scraped knuckles. It was too much. Her laughs subsided into sobs and she clung onto Tony, taking strength from her family, drawing it from where they each touched her, showing her in their own ways that they love her.

It took many minutes for her to calm down, but no one complained. In fact no one spoke, none of them wanting to break the silence, or be the first to ask her about what she had been through, but Gibbs knew that duty would fall to him. Neither Tony nor McGee would be able to focus, and though what she had been through filled him with just as much anger, he had the most experience questioning fragile people.

She was incredibly embarrassed once she realised her eyes had puffed up and her face was slick with more than just salt water. Tim wordlessly handed her a tissue and she quickly wiped away the evidence of her minor breakdown. Her eyes were bloodshot and sore, her face felt dry and her throat was scratchy, but Ziva felt oddly rejuvenated. Holding all of her emotions inside during those long weeks of torture had been draining but she didn't regret it. It had been necessary.

Thinking about what she had endured sent a shiver of fear through her and made her stomach turn, but she wasn't going to let this beat her; those monsters didn't deserve to win. She needed to face it rather than run from it or bury it with the other shadows in her life. If something she knew helped Gibbs find and punish those responsible, like… the donor of half her genetic makeup… then it would be worth the nightmares. Ziva ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make herself slightly more presentable and then looked Gibbs right in the eye.

"You will be questioning me now, yes? I am ready." She stated, her voice even despite the emotional rollercoaster she had just been on, and her three friends smiled; typical irrepressible Ziva.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A.N.: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this story, things have been hectic. I lost my will to write for a while there, so i made a new avatar pic to try and get myself back in the mood. It worked. Quite well. Please enjoy!

Thank you to LyssLovesTiva33, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, HuddyJibbsAddict, itzcheeseball, EowynGoldberry, ladybugsmomma, AlexisSophia, Tempe4Booth, Hiphuggers2, jstapny, MMWillow13, MissJayne and Abva for reviewing!

* * *

Gibbs smiled gently and withdrew slightly from Ziva's bed, putting some distance between them so he could slip into his professional attitude. The distance would also help to keep the questions from turning personal. He didn't want to make the mistake of pushing her to talk about things that she wasn't ready to discuss and cause a major breakdown. The space he vacated was quickly filled by Tony and McGee, who decided to settle on the edge of the bed with Ziva between them. They each took one of her hands in theirs and Ziva dipped her head, grateful for their support. She had to be strong to answer these questions, and their unspoken offering of strength meant a great deal to her.

"Why were you at that camp, Ziva?" Gibbs asked, starting off with the easy questions. She took a deep steadying breath, ignoring the part of her that was raging inside at his casual conversational tone. _It was a prison,_ it screamed, _a foul pit of despair with almost no way out!_ She carefully suppressed the voice, and prepared to answer.

"It was my mission to reconnoitre the camp, gather any evidence of other Hamas dealings that could help Mossad bring them down in the future and kill those that I could." she replied, her matter-of-fact tone was carefully controlled and emotionless. Exactly what they needed to get answers quickly, but not what her emotional well-being needed. That didn't matter to her right now though, helping her colleagues did. She would deal, or not deal, with her emotions later.

"Alone?" he pressed, making sure that they at least had that right.

"Yes. Director David did not think it would require more than one operative." Ziva nodded, her voice taking on a sharp edge when she mentioned her father and Gibbs felt a pang of sympathy. What must it have felt like to have her own father set her up to die?

"When you realised there was more terrorists than you could handle, why didn't you leave and request backup?" he asked, in part from curiosity. If she had still been with his team in DC, she would never have been alone like that. He would have been there, or Tony and McGee would have been there. _Someone_ would have been standing by, regardless of the circumstances.

"Because there was not." Ziva replied simply.

"But you were captured." he pointed out, and Ziva looked away from his eyes.

"I failed only because they knew I was coming and set traps for me." she replied hotly. "An explosion rendered me unconscious and when I awoke they were dragging me towards a car. I struggled but there was too many of them and I was rendered unconscious once more for my trouble." She finished, her calm tone broken by the pain that the betrayal of her father had caused her, even though her face was a careful blank.

Eli had wanted her back in Mossad, in his life, but then he had sent her to her death. She was his only remaining child. How could he do that to her? How _dare_ he do that to her! She tried to breathe evenly, but quite frankly she was well within her rights to fume over this for as long as she wanted. If he was arranging her death, then why should she follow the rules he had taught her? Why should she be the cold killer he had moulded her into?

"I found this in the desert. I thought you might like it back." Tony said from her left, his voice spearing through her angry thoughts. Ziva watched him curiously as he reached to the collar of his shirt. He quickly unfastened something from around his neck and held it before her, her eyes widening in recognition. It was her necklace. She reached out a hand for it, but he had other ideas.

He reached to her slowly so he didn't startle her, holding both ends of the chain to either side of her neck. She smiled, moving her hair to uncover her neck and he quickly fastened it, allowing it to fall to her skin. She reached up and stroked the gold Star of David, warm from Tony's body heat. She didn't know what to say. After she had realised that she had lost it in a struggle, she didn't know which, she had thought that she would never see it again.

"Tony, I… thank you." She said, her throat tight from the obvious sentiment that wearing her necklace held. No words could adequately convey how much it meant to her that he had found it and kept it with him, so instead she took his hand back into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Your father told Vance you were dead. He apparently identified a body as you." Gibbs informed her softly, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. Ziva swallowed hard and nodded robotically, squashing her feelings down once more for the time being. Tony gave her hand a slight squeeze of support and she allowed herself to smile at him.

"That does not surprise me. He is very thorough." she replied evenly. Knowing that your father wanted you dead, and hearing he had identified a stranger as you to sell the story while you were tortured, were two completely different things. It just served to really bring it home to her that Eli David didn't see her as anything more than an expendable asset. Then another thought occurred to her. "Did Director Vance tell you I was dead?" she asked softly, her eyes narrowing slightly. She watched as the men around her shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes, but we actually found out- well I found out, by hacking into your Mossad personnel file. At Tony's request. It classed you as deceased." Tim admitted awkwardly, clearing his throat in an attempt to make Tony take over the story.

"If you believed me dead, how did you find me?" Ziva questioned when no one continued, now beginning to see just how lucky she and Jenny had been. Tony spoke up this time, and he softly recounted his version of the events that culminated in their daring rescue, admitting that it had started out as a quest for revenge. She was silent for a moment, trying to absorb everything he had said. It was amazing, and terrifying, to think that if just one little event in that sequence had been different, she would still be in that camp. She shuddered and then chased the thought away with what really happened.

She looked at her three family members, attempting to form the words to tell them how grateful she was, but all she could think of was; 'thank you'. Somehow, it didn't seem to be enough, but she said it anyway. Gibbs smirked and then nodded almost imperceptibly at Tony.

"No, Ziva, thank you." he said gently, and she tried hard to stop her head from turning to look at Tony, but ultimately failing. He was frowning at Gibbs. He was probably wondering what that meant, she was too. Part of her knew, but it was bruised, scared and hiding in the shadows of her soul. It wasn't quite ready to face the light so she let it pass. Gibbs apparently understood what had happened because he straightened up a little and began speaking again.

"One of the women you were kept with, Yarah, overheard the men saying they were being paid to keep you there." Gibbs said and Ziva struggled to contain her anger and despair at the revelation. Why had he done that to her? What had she done to earn such hatred? She had always done everything he had asked of her, including kill her own brother! She shook the emotion off with a lot of effort.

"As I said, he is very thorough. That may explain why they thought nothing of injuring me severely, when they hurt the other women only as much as their bodies could 'safely' handle." Ziva mused, wondering which woman was Yarah. Due to her injuries she had been unconscious most of the time and she hadn't had chance to get familiar with all of her fellow captives. Strangely, she was happy that that particular mystery had been solved, even though the answer left a raw hole in her heart.

"We checked out his bank account, but there was nothing suspicious there that we could use to tie him to what happened to you. He probably uses a different account for Mossad business but we don't have any aliases for him. Do you know of any?" Gibbs asked, gesturing towards McGee's laptop. Tim took the hint and stood up; placing the hand he had been holding on top of Ziva's blanketed lap. Ziva nodded to Gibbs and rubbed her face tiredly with her free hand.

"Yes. The account name that he transferred money to Ari and I from, which we used for living costs during a mission when we were younger, was 'Abraham Sinai'. I believe this to be his main business account." She said, racking her brain for any others but coming up empty. That was the only account that she had ever had access to. Was that because he had trusted his children? Or was it just another decoy account, one that he could cut off if they betrayed him?

"Abraham Sinai?" Gibbs repeated to McGee, while trying not to imagine how young Ziva had been when she had started being sent on these assassination missions. Tim typed away on his laptop, brow furrowed in concentration.

"The first part is the name of the man to whom God gave the Ten Commandments, the second part is the name of the mountain that Abraham climbed to receive the Commandments." She informed him, a slight smile playing on her lips. She had been rather impressed when she had first heard it, now though it seemed silly and pretentious.

"A rather biblical name." Gibbs said, his feelings on the matter clear in his very unimpressed tone, and Ziva chuckled.

"It was through Abraham and the commandments that God hoped to make the Israelites better, and through them, the world. If it was Director David's intention to take the name for the same reason, I do not know." she replied, amused by Gibbs' and Tony's eye rolling. Had her father developed delusions of grandeur? She couldn't tell. As far as she knew, his demeanour had been constant for as long as she had known him.

"McGee?" Gibbs said, turning his attention to the young computer genius. Tim didn't look up from his laptop, his concentration riveted to the screen and his fingers flying over the keys.

"Just a moment, boss. This definitely seems to be it; it's got tons of security, a few redirection bots..." Tim said by way of answer, disabling or avoiding the security measures of the account.

"There is a lot of money in the account, so it will be heavily protected." Ziva added seriously.

"She's not kidding boss, there's a hack detection and back trace program on a near constant scan. He obviously expects this account to come under attack… I wonder why?" McGee said, trailing off at the end. Ziva's eyes snapped to the back of McGee's head, but her sudden movement went unnoticed.

"Near constant? Any way you could time your hack-" Gibbs asked, feeling a little out of his depth when it came to computer stuff. Tim threw up his hands and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"I already thought of that boss, but I don't think we have time to wait for the window. It sends the data it's collected to David's email at 0200 hours and then wipes its memory so it can begin again. The break in scanning lasts only about forty five seconds."

"That's thirteen hours from now, McGee." Gibbs stated impatiently, and McGee merely nodded gesturing helplessly at his laptop screen.

"I know boss. I'll try to get what we need as quickly as possible, but if we want to stay off his radar then waiting is our best bet." Tim replied, his tone apologetic.

"We _must_ already be on his radar." Ziva said, breaking the silence that had descended after McGee's announcement. "Surely your presence here would not have gone unnoticed? My identity alone would have been enough for someone to let _him_ know. Perhaps the hospital staff have already notified him of my '_resurrection'_." Gibbs nodded, quickly thinking over their options. Could they risk waiting thirteen hours if Ziva's father already knew they had rescued her and would be investigating him?

"Do it now, McGee." Gibbs ordered, hoping that there would be something incriminating in the account.

"On it, boss." Tim replied, throwing himself into hacking his way into the account properly. "This may take a while; I'll email a copy of the account to Abby, just in case."

"Okay then, back to my questions, Ziva." Gibbs said, redirecting his full attention back to Ziva. "Did you know Jenny was there before you arrived?" he asked softly, and Ziva sagged a little. What her father had done was horrible, but if he hadn't done it, she would never have found Jenny. Her friend would have died in that hellhole.

"No. I did not even suspect. As far as I knew Jenny was dead. I was in isolation for a long time, being… interrogated." she shivered slightly, only just managing to suppress the action before it betrayed her fear. "When I was finally put with the other women, I was unconscious and already severely injured. When I woke up I did so in Jenny's arms. It was… quite a shock to see her, but also… a relief. I thought I was dead, that she had come to help me let go. I quickly realised the truth when my injuries made themselves known, but somehow the situation was not as dire." her eyes left Gibbs and travelled to the still form in the bed opposite. "I was no longer alone." she almost whispered the last part, recalling every moment they had been together in that horrible cell.

"Did she tell you how she got there?" Gibbs asked, hoping for a clue, any clue that could help them locate this other cell, but Ziva shook her head apologetically.

"She said when she awoke after the shootout she was in a Hamas camp. She could not say which, or where it was located, only that it was not the same as the one you found us in. She was there for a few months being tortured for information, but they were unable to break her." Ziva began, recounting everything she could remember of what Jenny had told her.

"Impressive." Tony muttered, casting his gaze to Jenny's unmoving body in surprise.

"That is what I thought, but Jenny told me that it was unbearable, that she had wanted to tell them so they would stop the torture, but the pain was simply too great. She could not speak. They decided she was unbreakable and sent her to another cell of lesser stature in the Hamas torture camp hierarchy, and that is where she stayed until you found us." Ziva revealed, annoyed by her own inability to help the investigation.

"Did she say what they wanted to know?" Gibbs pressed, and Ziva racked her brain, attempting to recall something, anything helpful but she knew it was in vain. Their first concern in the camp had been escape. She could have asked Jenny anything after that, so she hadn't bothered.

"No, and I did not ask." she sighed regretfully and glanced at the door, jumping slightly as she caught sight of something ducking out of sight. "I believe it would be safer for us to return to the US." she whispered, still watching the door, her gut churning. Her father must have already sent someone to make sure she really had survived. To what lengths would he go to make sure she could not act against him? Tony's hand tightened around hers, letting her know he had seen something too.

"McGee?" Gibbs murmured, keeping his voice low in the hopes of not being overheard.

"A few more seconds' boss." Tim replied, not bothering to look up. He didn't want to be distracted, not now he was so close.

"DiNozzo, help Ziva take a few steps." Gibbs said, while he checked over Jenny, hoping that what he was about to do wouldn't permanently damage her. He pulled the food, morphine and IV bags off the IV pole and laid them on her chest, wrapping her in her blankets and getting ready to carry her out.

Tony helped Ziva off the bed and supported her while she took a few unsteady steps, preventing her from falling. She quickly adapted to putting half her weight on Tony, grimacing from the pain but confident in her ability to walk out of the hospital. Tony grabbed her morphine drip and shoved it in his pocket, wrapping the blanket around Ziva's shoulders.

McGee pumped his fist happily before shutting down his laptop and throwing it in its bag. He had successfully hacked the account and sent a copy of the transactions list to Abby. He looked to Gibbs who nodded to the door. Tim walked over to it and threw the door open, casually leaning around the frame to make sure whoever had been spying on them had retreated for the moment. Seeing no one he gestured to the others. Gibbs lifted Jenny into his arms and strode quickly and quietly down the corridor, Ziva and Tony following as fast they could. McGee gave the room a cursory look over to make sure they hadn't left anything and then marched after his team, his wary eyes making sure they weren't followed.

* * *

A.N.2: I made up the computer stuff. I have absolutely zero knowledge of hacking or computer security, only what I have heard on the show, so I can only hope it sounded good enough to be convincing, lol!


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I only own the story.

A.N.: I'm working on the next chapters of this story and Life Amongst the Dead. I'm going to try getting this one done first though; I've been torturing you guys for long enough, lol. Thank you to MMWillow13, Tempe4Booth, HuddyJibbsAddict, Kyp, leighanne jenny gibbs, left my heart in Paris, Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs, hopesmom, itzcheeseball, Tony and Ziva forever, ladybugsmomma, EowynGoldberry, NightingaleTear, Hiphuggers2, Abva and CriminalMindsWhore for reviewing!

* * *

McGee walked swiftly, but nonchalantly, carefully watching over his teammates ahead of him and occasionally glancing around to make sure no one was following them. They needed to get out of Somalia; who knew what Eli David would do once he found out Ziva was alive? How were they going to get to the US though? Jenny's unconscious form would raise a few eyebrows and far too many questions for them to comfortably answer, and she would inevitably be recognised once they arrived in Dulles airport. The last thing they needed was for the press to find out, or worse, Vance. No this all needed to be done secretly, but how?

The hallways leading to the back door of the hospital were empty; lucky for them as he wasn't so sure how they could explain away taking two obviously seriously injured women out of their beds without waiting for them to be discharged. McGee sped up a little as Tony and Ziva reached the back door, knowing it would be awkward for them, and painful for Ziva, to try and keep it open for Gibbs to get out with Jenny. Taking a fleeting glance over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear he reached around his team mates and opened the door, stepping out and holding it open to allow them to stride out.

He again checked the corridor before letting the door close, hanging back to see if the person that had been spying on them would try to follow them. He waited for a count of five and sharply ducked his head around the door frame, catching sight of a startled form disappearing around a corner. This guy was well trained, but now that McGee knew they were being followed he abandoned the door and ran to catch up with Gibbs.

"Boss, just seen a guy tailing us. He managed to duck out of sight despite my catching him by surprise; he's good... and it looked like he was armed." McGee told him, his voice pitched perfectly for normal conversation tones as he walked alongside him.

"Right. I'd say it's a fair bet that Eli David knows about Ziva; that operative wouldn't be risking himself like this if he hadn't already passed on what he knows." Gibbs replied evenly, his eyes scanning the car park for their vehicle; the large conspicuous ex-army truck.

"Boss, what are we going to do? Jenny will cause a media circus the moment we enter Dulles, if we can even get on the plane with an unconscious person without a doctor present." asked McGee, concerned about how they were going to pull this off. Gibbs pulled Jenny closer to his torso and fell into step with Tony and Ziva.

"Ziva, do you know anyone with a private plane?" he asked tersely. She thought for a moment and then reluctantly shook her head.

"None that would be willing to risk my father's displeasure." She replied apologetically. Gibbs nodded, expecting that that would be the case.

"Then let's get to the NCIS outpost. We can figure out what to do when we're in relative safety." He said, cutting across the car park.

"Director David knows the location of the outpost." Tony cautioned him, taking more of Ziva's weight so they could move faster.

"Yeah, but he won't attack it." Gibbs told him confidently. "He seems to favour the covert over brute force."

"He paid a Hamas group to torture me; he may have other cells in his pocket." Ziva theorised angrily. McGee glanced back but couldn't see the man following them. He didn't want to stay out in the open for much longer though, so he ran ahead to the truck and reached for the handle.

"McGee, stop!" Ziva called out, making his hand freeze on the door mechanism. "Our vehicle was unattended for hours, the operative may have rigged it to blow. Get down on the ground and check for any devices that do not belong." She instructed him, and McGee swallowed reflexively. He quickly did as he was told, but there was nothing that he could see that screamed out 'I'm a bomb!' The brakes looked incredibly worn, but he hadn't checked them when he had stolen it so he couldn't say it wasn't fine. He grunted in frustration and got back up.

"McGee, come here." Gibbs ordered, seeing the defeated expression on the young Agents' face. McGee did so and then Gibbs held Jenny out to him. "Take Jen. Quickly." He added, seeing the young man's hesitance. Tim nodded and reached out for her. She was light, scarily light. He settled her awkwardly in his arms as Gibbs looked over the van thoroughly, appearing less than a minute later with a deactivated device. "Driver side explosive; the brakes are filed down too. We're not going anywhere in that."

"I wonder how long they've known we were here." Tony growled, frustrated.

"Probably since we told the hospital staff who Ziva was." McGee answered, wishing that he had thought to give her a pseudo name. "We're going to have to get another ride fast." He added, looking around for a nondescript car they could 'borrow'. Gibbs seemed to spot one and he quickly walked up to it, smashed its window and opened the door.

"Tony, Ziva; get in the back." He directed as he swept the broken glass off the driver's seat. "McGee pass Jen to them when they've buckled up then get in the passenger side." He added ducking in and swiftly hotwiring the car. McGee did as he was told, carefully handing off the unconscious form of his ex-boss to his teammates so they were settled in with Tony on the left, Jenny in the middle and Ziva on the right. The car roared to life and McGee jumped in, buckling up as Gibbs swiftly pulled out of the parking space and set off towards the NCIS outpost at his usual speed.

"McGee? Call Abby. I've got an idea, and we'll need her to do something for us." Gibbs said. Tim closed his eyes in apprehension, this was a call he had put off for far too long, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

* * *

Abby sat in her office in front of her computer, staring forlornly at the screen and hugging Bert tightly to her chest. It had been _hours_ since Tim had called her with car trouble, since he had promised that he would 'call her soon', _hours!_ What were they doing? Had they found the person responsible for Ziva's death yet? Surely Tim would call to tell her they were alright, at least? She glanced at her cell phone, which sat on her desk, dark and still. No messages, no calls, no voicemail... nothing. She was going stir crazy waiting for Tim, or any of them, to give her an update.

She had completed all of her work, even going so far as to run some evidence twice despite getting perfect results the first time, just so she had something to do. Ducky had come up to see her a little while ago. It had been nice to talk to someone for a while, someone as concerned about Gibbs, Tony and Timmy as she was. He'd not stayed long after finding out that she didn't know what was going on either, but his visit had made the wait more bearable.

She should probably have called them, but what if they were stalking their prey and she gave their position away? She couldn't live with herself if she was the reason the murderer escaped them. She sighed heavily and gave Bert a quick squeeze, the familiar raspberry sound bringing a temporary smile to her face, but it didn't last long.

What if they couldn't find Ziva's killer right away? Would they stay over there for as long as it took? What if they had found him but he'd killed them? How would she know to send help if they didn't call her? An image rose to her mind's eye unbidden; Timmy lying in the desert bleeding to death, his hand outstretched towards his cell phone which was on the sand next to him, but it was just too far away. His fingers grasped thin air and he closed his eyes in defeat, never to open them again. Abby took a deep breath and shook her head in an attempt to dispel the image.

She rose from her desk and walked out of the glass door partition towards one of the fridges where she kept her spare Caf-Pow. She opened it, reached inside and jumped, startled by the sound of her mobile ringing. Her heart rate sped up in anticipation and she pulled her hand out, turned to leave, stopped, made a split second decision and quickly turned back to the fridge, grabbed her drink and raced back to her desk. She put her drink on the desk and whipped up her cell phone, her hands shaking from nerves.

"Hello?" she said, her voice wavering.

"_Abby, it's me_." Relief, pure unadulterated relief coursed through her at the sound of Tim's voice. He was safe. This realisation was followed closely by anger. Why hadn't he called her earlier?

"I don't know anyone by that name." She replied stonily, listening carefully to the noise in the background. It sounded like he was in a car, a moving car, so he wasn't alone.

"_It's McGee_." He clarified gently, probably knowing how angry she was with him right now, but she wasn't going to let him off that easily.

"Oh." She responded with disinterest, taking a long, loud suck on her Caf-Pow straw to illustrate her displeasure. He sighed softly.

"_Look, Abby, I didn't mean to leave it this long to call you but something big came up and I've not had a moment to spare_." He explained, piquing Abby's curiosity.

"Something big?" she repeated, hopeful that he was referring to Ziva's killer. Had they found him already?

"_Yeah. Listen, we need a favour. We're coming home, but we can't take a public airplane_." He said, making Abby wrinkle her brow in confusion. That was how they had gotten there wasn't it? Why couldn't they come back that way? Didn't they have any more money?

"Why not? What big thing came up?" she asked, worried now that they had found the killer, but now he was after them.

"_I don't have time to explain_-" he began, but Abby saw red and went in for the kill.

"I've been waiting for your call for _hours_, McGee! I've had Vance interrogate me on your whereabouts and I've been going stir crazy worrying that you could be dead somewhere and no one would know! I want _answers!_" she shouted, stomping over to her glass door and closing it so no one would disturb her.

"_I'm not sure how to tell you this_-" he broke off and Abby could hear mumbling sounds in the background. "_Someone wants to speak to you_." He said eventually, and she rolled her eyes, hoping Tony or Gibbs could explain because she wasn't going to go easy on them.

"_Hello Abby_." Her mind became a complete blank for several seconds. She blinked and fell heavily into her desk chair, tears filling her eyes. She couldn't believe it, it wasn't possible was it?

"Z- Ziva?" she whispered, not really daring to believe her ears.

"_Yes Abby_." Her Israeli friend confirmed. "_I am alive. Tony and the others found me just in time_." Ziva sounded tired and upset, yet there was an unmistakable fire in her tone.

"What happened to you?" Abby asked softly, swiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks. This converstaion was quite surreal, she had already said her tearful goodbyes to a picture of Ziva and now here she was talking to her.

"_I was captured and held prisoner by a Hamas group. My own father paid them to keep me there. I was not the only one saved, Abby, but the other would be best seen to be believed. It is impossible for us to take a public plane while she is with us, also my father may be watching the airport_." Ziva said anxiously but Abby focussed on the 'other person' part of the conversation, hiccupped and laughed, suddenly giddy.

"Who is it? Another Mossad Agent? Oh, or you have another sister!"

"_No it is not another Mossad Agent, but she was a sister to me... a lifetime ago. Hopefully she will be again_." Ziva's voice was overflowing with emotion and her softly spoken words stirred something in Abby's memory. Abby cleared her throat, dried her eyes and sat up straight, all business once more.

"What do you need me to do?"

"_I will pass you to Gibbs_." Ziva said, and Abby heard the sounds of the phone changing hands.

"_Is the Sec-Nav using his private jet?_" Gibbs asked, not bothering with pleasantries, which served to knock Abby off of her happy cloud and back into cold reality. They were in danger.

"Erm... hang on." She quicky typed on her keyboard, accessing the Sec-Nav's plane's itinerary. "No. He last used it a fortnight ago; it isn't scheduled to go out again for another two months." She reported.

"_I need you to send it to the NCIS outpost in Somalia ASAP_."

"Risky Gibbs, you aren't exactly the Sec-Nav's favourite person." She replied, her eyebrows rising at the audacity of his demand.

"_I don't really care right now; I just have to bring my people home_."

"Who's paying?" she asked hesitantly, hoping that he wasn't going to make her hack the Sec-Nav's accounts.

"_McGee emailed you a copy of the account status of one Abraham Sinai; he's paying_." - (Thank you Tempe4Booth)

"Okay... got it. The flight crew have been notified. I'll intercept any communiqués that they send to the Sec-Nav for confirmation." She told him and then spied something noted in the flight information. "Oh, and Gibbs, the next flight it was scheduled for was to bring one of the Agents over in Somalia home. You might be able to get away with this if you bring that person back with you."

"_Good work Abs, but I'm not sure if Agent Hilliard is allowed to fly yet, or he'd already be home_."

"True. It'll be a few hours flight time Gibbs, and you better make sure there's somewhere for them to land at the outpost." She cautioned.

"_It'll be taken care of. Just tell them to contact the base before they get ready to land. Oh and Abs? Get Ducky up there with you, just in case Vance tries to single you out_."

"Why would he single us out?" she asked, confused by the implications of what he was saying.

"_I don't think he'll be happy with us soon_."

"Now that you mention it he did have a minor freak out when he found out you were in Somalia, but then I told him you were avenging Ziva's death and he was suddenly fine with it. It was kind of weird, Gibbs." Abby confided, her eyes straying to the door of her lab, making sure she was alone.

"_Smug bastard_." Gibbs growled angrily. "_Make sure you and Ducky are at the landing strip when we get back to DC, I want you all where I can keep you safe_." He said, his voice sounding quite distant.

"Right, I'll get Ducky and see you then. Bye Gibbs!"

"_Bye Abs_." He said, disconnecting the phone. Abby grinned and gave Bert another squeeze. Gibbs and the team were safe, Ziva was alive and they were all coming home; things were finally looking up.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I only own the story.

A.N.: Thank you to EowynGoldberry, ladybugsmomma, MMWillow13, left my heart in Paris, RhizOneill, Tempe4Booth, NightingaleTear, Jupiter Lily, HuddyJibbsAddict and Hiphuggers2 for reviewing!

* * *

Director Eli David huffed angrily and dismissed the officer before him. Ziva had avoided the assassin, discovered the explosive on her vehicle, stolen a car and left the hospital with the NCIS Agents that she apparently considered her 'family'. Well, he would have been extremely disappointed in her if she hadn't done any of those things. The skills that she had been taught when she was a young girl would never leave her; she proved that time and again. How could she think she would be able to lead a normal American life in the US? She was Israeli, she had a home, a family and a cause here, but no; she wanted a white picket fence with that Italian playboy. She was dragging the David name through the mud and she couldn't even see it.

The decision to send her to the Hamas cell hadn't been easy, he hadn't wanted to have her killed; once it had become obvious that she was his only remaining child he had begun to sculpt great plans for her. She would have proven her loyalty and her worth to her country by going up against impossible odds, and succeeding. She would have taken her place on his staff in the Mossad hierarchy so she could become familiar with the more intimate details of the goings on of their cause. She would have taken an Israeli husband and raised a family in the safety of his mansion, but it was not to be.

His daughter had been withdrawn when she had arrived, and had gotten more and more depressed as the days went by. She put in only the effort she absolutely had to on missions and became reclusive once they were completed. She had shown her discontent with her part in Mossad, and other Officers had taken notice. _The Directors daughter has gone soft_, they said, s_he prefers her American life, her American friends and her... American family_.

Eli picked up the paper weight on his desk and furiously hurled it at the door, watching it shatter on impact. It didn't even give him a moment's pleasure; just intensified the anger as he would now have to call someone to clean it up or risk sliding on the shards. He scrubbed his face with both hands and exhaled loudly. He was the only family Ziva had, like it or not.

His children hadn't wasted their lives wondering what to do with themselves as thousands did everyday; they had been given the best education money could buy and a guaranteed place in Mossad. He hadn't watched over their shoulders as other parents did, he had given them the freedom to do as they pleased; and as Ari before her, Ziva had repaid him with betrayal. It had pained him to finally see what her treachery could lead to, so he had terminated the threat. He had buried his love for her under all of the disappointment, anger and shame that she brought him.

He wondered what would have happened to Tali had she survived to adulthood, as he often found himself doing. Would she have been his only loyal child? Or would she have been turned against him as Ari and Ziva have been? Would she hate him for his part in her siblings' deaths? Or would she have seen the necessity and stood by his decision? He sighed; he would never know the answers to those questions.

As Director of Mossad it was his duty to eliminate any and all threats to their cause, country and people. He had paid the Hamas cell for a quick, guaranteed death, and they had failed. His operatives had already arrived at their camp and begun cleansing the area of the survivors from Ziva's escape. The bodies were already being relocated to a place where they could better serve Mossad.

Ziva was on her way to the NCIS outpost that Leon Vance had set up years ago, but his officers knew that area well. There were many places that were perfect for ambushes and things were already in motion. They would never arrive at their safe haven; they would be the victim of a counter offensive from the Hamas cell they had attacked not long ago. The bodies would be arranged for dramatic effect and Leon would get condolences on the loss of his team. A tragic loss, but NCIS would get the blame and have to agree to stay out of Mossad affairs from now on. A win-win situation.

So why was his heart in pain?

* * *

It was a trap. Gibbs peered out of the windscreen, trying to locate any telltale flashes of reflected light from sniper rifles or binoculars, but none came. He knew it was an ambush though, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and a cold feeling was settling in his gut. He had carefully parked the car around the corner from what looked like a derelict ranch. The sun was still high in the sky, reflecting off of the sand in a strange haze. It obscured his vision, but that hopefully meant it obscured theirs too. The heat was stifling however and all five of the car's occupants were uncomfortably hot and sweaty. Ziva held tightly to Jenny despite this, not about to let her friend get thrown out of her seat simply because she was too warm.

Tony gripped Jenny's blanketed legs, having successfully fastened the seatbelt around her middle as extra security. He had suggested laying Jenny the other way so Ziva's stitches didn't pull apart from any impact if they were thrown around by Gibbs' driving, but she had refused. She didn't seem to feel safe unless Jenny was snuggled up with her. Gibbs didn't know what kind of emotional trauma they had incurred, but he knew Ducky would be able to help them deal with it. All he had to do was get them to him alive.

"I would not advise leaving the road in this desert, Gibbs, and there is no other path around. You must drive through as fast as possible, do not stop even if they jump in front of you." Ziva advised from behind him and he nodded silently. He knew she was more of an erratic driver than he was, and this was the general reason why. McGee shook his head beside him and squinted, attempting to focus better, but he ended up just hurting his eyes. The young Agent rubbed the sweat from his eyes and leaned forward for his bag, just as the glass of the passenger side window exploded inwards.

They hadn't set the ambush down there; they had set it here knowing that they would be too wary to approach the abandoned building. Gibbs floored the accelerator and for a moment nothing happened except for the wheels spinning, then they caught traction and the car lurched forwards into motion. Everyone leaned forwards, getting their heads below the window line, Ziva shielding Jenny's head with her own and Gibbs slouching in his seat as far as he could go while still being able to see the road.

Bullets peppered the car, causing the occupants to flinch with every impact, but no one lost their cool. Tony and McGee quickly raised their guns and returned fire, careful to keep their heads down. Gibbs swerved the car erratically as much as he dared but he wasn't going to go off the road. He would lose speed in the sand and there was no guarantee he would find the path again once they were out of range. As they neared the ranch house people jumped out of hiding and more bullets hit their vehicle. This was a very bad situation to be in.

Gibbs was painfully aware of the bullets that were missing the top of his head by millimetres, could feel the disturbance in the air as they passed, ruffling his hair and impacting the windscreen. He was partly glad it was shatter proof glass, because that meant he hadn't been showered in shards, but unfortunately the intricate mosaic pattern was making it almost impossible to see.

"McGee, get rid of the windscreen!" he bellowed, all of his concentration focussed on the road. Tim didn't answer him verbally; he just slouched back in his seat and raised his legs to kick it out of place while he reloaded his gun and silently passed it back to Ziva. The first few kicks did nothing, and McGee cursed under his breath. He savagely lashed out in frustration and it began to dislodge. Then a bullet hit his leg. McGee let out a surprised cry of pain and adrenaline gave him the strength he needed to finally kick the windscreen out, drawing his legs back to himself and out of harm's way.

"It's just a graze boss, but damn it hurts!" he growled loudly so his friends wouldn't be distracted with worry. McGee pulled a soft rag from his bag, which he used to clean CD's, DVD's and his laptop screen, and wrapped it tightly around his wound to staunch the flow of blood.

Gradually the rain of bullets got slower and Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief; they were almost out of range. He glanced at the rear-view mirror and set his jaw irately. Four motorbikes were behind them, speeding to catch up to them. Each bike had an armed passenger. _This ride to safety is about to get a whole lot more interesting_.

"They're on our six! Try to take out the drivers!" Gibbs barked, pulling out his own gun and passing it to McGee. "Can you still shoot?" he asked the young man. Tim nodded, his face slightly ashen, either from the shock and pain of his injury, or because it was more serious than he was letting on. Gibbs hoped it was the former; he wasn't sure how long the trip to the NCIS office would take and he daren't slow down after this.

"I'm out boss!" Tony shouted, his empty clip sliding out of his gun to land uselessly on the car floor.

"Ziva?" Jethro shouted questioningly, hoping that they wouldn't be caught with their proverbial pants down after all that they had been through.

"I have a few more rounds, Gibbs!" Ziva shouted back, and Gibbs nodded. If she killed all four drivers with one shot then they would be alright, if not then he could only hope that he hadn't just given Tim an empty gun. He hadn't thought to reload it after rescuing Jenny and Ziva, and apparently neither had Tony.

"Make them count!" he yelled, and watched through the mirror as Ziva carefully lined up her shot, using the back of the seat to steady her hands. She fired once and killed the driver of the lead motorbike instantly, causing the bike to swerve and then topple, throwing the dead driver and passenger to the sand. The others parted around their comrades but did not stop. They were now close enough to return fire, making Ziva duck down.

Tim tossed Gibbs' gun back to Tony, knowing that he wouldn't get a good angle on them himself and Tony checked the clip, cursing loudly upon seeing only two bullets remaining. He sighed and resolutely set up his first shot. He fired at the bike closest to them, but the driver swerved just in time to get out of the way. The bike behind wasn't as lucky. The bullet entered their front tyre making the bike flip forwards, killing its occupants when their heads impacted the ground at speed. The bike continued to flip and finally exploded, but they were already too far ahead for it to work to anyone's advantage.

Ziva raised herself back up and lined up another shot just as the two remaining bike passengers returned fire. A bullet grazed Ziva's arm and her shot went wild, her hand opening in reflex. Her gun clattered along the boot of the car and then fell to the sand behind them. She dropped back down and gritted her teeth to contain her instinctive cry of pain. Tony ripped off the sleeve of his shirt and handed it to her and she gratefully wrapped her wound.

Tony then retaliated, firing at the obviously more skilled driver who carried the person that had injured Ziva. The driver ducked but the bullet still caught him in the arm. The bike swerved slightly but quickly righted itself. Tony pulled the trigger again, but the click of an empty gun was all that reached him until his clip slid out and clattered off the car to the road. They were completely out of ammo and still had two bikes following them.

"Boss! We have a problem!" Tony shouted, hurling his empty gun at their pursuers in frustration. It flew straight at the injured driver, making him swerve out of the way and into the path of the other bike, which was forced to veer off road onto the sand to avoid a collision. Both bikes soon lost speed until they pulled back into pursuit, albeit further behind than before, giving the Agents some breathing room. "It's slightly less urgent now, but it's still a problem!" Tony amended, a brief chuckle escaping him at their unexpected stroke of luck.

"We have no more ammunition, Gibbs!" Ziva called out, her voice strained slightly from the fresh wave of pain, but the morphine drip that she was still connected to was working its magic on her already.

"Is there anything in the car that you can throw at them?" Gibbs shouted back, and they all looked around them frantically, but nothing looked particularly promising. Tim rummaged in his bag and finally brought out a can of pressurised air he used for cleaning dust and dirt from his keyboard.

"If we still had bullets we could use this!" McGee said regretfully and Ziva's eyes lit up.

"McGee, pass it to me." She said eagerly, accepting the canister and then leaning over to Tony, her hand reaching for his belt. Tony yelped and slapped her hand away, slightly shocked by her actions.

"But we haven't even kissed yet!" he called wittily, and she rolled her eyes.

"I need your knife!" she told him and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "If you do not pass it to me this second, Tony, I'll-!" she started her threat but he quickly whipped out his buckle knife and handed it over. - (_I'm not sure if he had to destroy it in SWAK when his clothes were burned, but if it worked like a charm once, surely he'd use it on all of his belts?_)

Ziva then watched the bikes behind them as they gained ground, mentally calculating how close they needed to be and how quickly she would have to throw the knife after the canister for the desired effect. Several seconds passed and then she drew her arm back and lobbed the canister at one of the bikes, the knife following closely behind. The canister hit the handlebars of the bike on the left, bouncing off to the right just for long enough so the knife could catch up. They collided in the empty space between both bikes and the resulting explosion of pressurised air was enough to unbalance both bikes, sending them spinning outwards. The drivers lost control and they crashed to the ground, never to get up again.

The Agents cheered; relieved that it was finally over and they quickly checked themselves over to make sure they hadn't incurred more damage than they previously thought. Except for McGee and Ziva, who both had flesh wounds, everyone was fine.

"I'm so glad you're here, Ziva." Tony said, smiling widely at her. Her cheeks flushed and she silently surveyed the destruction behind them. She didn't feel like she had done a good thing. There was a good chance she had known some of those people. Had they known the truth, or were they misled to their deaths?

"They were sloppy and inexperienced. This is only the first ambush that awaits us." She informed them and a tense atmosphere once again descended upon the car. How were they going to defend themselves with no ammo? The rest of the trip was made in silence.

* * *

A.N.2: I finished writing this yesterday but held onto it to try and proof read it with a fresh pair of eyes today. I hope I did a good enough job. I have no intention of leaving it so long between updates again. The next chapter that I'll be submitting will be for my RE-NCIS crossover Life Amongst the Dead, Ziva's POV. After that it'll be back to this and then Best Intentions for the MTAC scene. Please don't be afraid to let me know what you think! I'm a big girl, I can take _constructive_ criticism!


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I only own this story.

A.N.: Thank you to HuddyJibbsAddict, EowynGoldberry, Tempe4Booth, left my heart in Paris, Hiphuggers2, MMWillow13, ladybugsmomma, MissJayne, CriminalMindsWhore, NightingaleTear and RhizOneill for reviewing!

* * *

Abby tapped her foot impatiently while the elevator moved down to autopsy. It was moving really slowly today, she must have been waiting for at least five seconds and she still wasn't there. It never took that long to get down a floor, did it? She narrowed her eyes threateningly at the grey metal box and quickly resolved to count the seconds from now on so she would be able to tell if the lift was messing with her or not.

The doors finally parted and she practically flew out, narrowly avoiding slamming into the autopsy doors when they didn't open fast enough, but then things never did seem to be able to keep up with her when she was excited. She was on a mission from Gibbs, and also to impart the best news she had heard in a long time, and that made her **very** excited. Her scowl melted away, already forgotten and a huge Cheshire cat grin naturally took its place.

As soon as she walked in to autopsy she looked around for Ducky. He was definitely down here; he wouldn't leave the building while Gibbs and the others were out on a mission. She soon spied him by his computer and felt a renewed wave of giddiness wash over her. She clapped her hands together, skipped over to him and spun on the spot when he finally realised he wasn't alone and looked up at her.

"Abby, what brings you down here?" he asked, slightly bemused by her behaviour.

"Ducky!" she gushed, too energized and happy to form a coherent sentence. She simply clapped her hands together again, her cheeks stinging from the smile that threatened to be a permanent fixture. Ducky understood immediately what she was trying to convey and he leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at his own lips in response to the young woman's exhilaration.

"Ah, I take it you have finally spoken to Timothy." He stated, and she nodded emphatically, finding her voice.

"I can't believe it!" she burst out. "Ziva's alive and well and they are all on their way to catch a plane! Well, the plane has to arrive first so they can then catch it, I hope it's left already, but then it is the Sec-Nav's pilot so I'll bet he flew off immediately after getting the new flight plan I sent them-" she stopped suddenly as his words registered in her mind and then she looked at him, her smile disappearing instantly, replaced with a reproachful frown. "You already knew!" she accused and he looked guiltily away. Her happiness melted away, the nerves and worries of a little while ago still fresh in her mind. "I've been worried sick up in my lab and you never said anything!" she fumed, hurt that even though he had seen how distraught she had been when he had come up to see her, he hadn't said a word.

"I didn't want to come between you and the phone call that young Timothy owed you. If I had told you, you wouldn't have believed that Ziva and Jennifer are alive. It is a very farfetched idea since they were officially dead to us-" he said, only to be cut off by Abby.

"Wait. Jennifer? Who do you mean, Ducky?" she asked, her voice barely audible in the silent autopsy room and Ducky closed his eyes. He'd put his foot in his mouth every time he opened it to speak. He reopened them and watched as Abby wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself and shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, her eyes glistening in unshed tears. She knew who he meant; she just couldn't believe he would be so mean as to bring her up after all this time. She was hoping that it had been a slip of the tongue; which could happen since Jenny is dead and Ziva just 'came back from the dead', right?

"They didn't tell you about her." He sighed; annoyed that Tim had told her about Ziva but left her in the dark about Jenny when she and Abby had been so close. "I mean our ex-Director, _our_ _Jenny_, the woman you called 'mother', Abby." He explained gently and Abby drew in a shuddering breath, her piercing green orbs glaring in disbelief and distress.

"Mommy." She corrected quietly. "That's not possible; it's been over a year..." She whispered, but her mind immediately dredged up what Ziva had said on the phone a few minutes before. _I was not the only one saved, Abby, but the other would be best seen to be believed._

"I didn't believe it either when Timothy first told me. I thought it was some sort of joke, but..." he trailed off, wishing that he could prove it to her, but how? Something clicked in his brain and he smiled. _Of course! The pictures that Timothy emailed me!_ "He sent me pictures of them to prove it. Here, let me show you." He turned to his computer and brought up his email account. He swiftly logged back in and hovered his cursor over the email. "These were taken as they were admitted into the hospital. They are both badly injured, Abby. There is blood." He warned her and she carefully schooled her features into a blank mask, nodding to him to open the email. He did so and Abby's shocked intake of breath instantly threw him back to that day in the squad room, when he'd had the unpleasant duty of informing her and Tim that Jenny was dead. He silently cursed McGee once more, rising from his seat to envelop Abby in a much needed hug.

Abby gazed at the pictures in a mixture of shock, horror, relief and amazement; the last two emotions feeding the second. Ziva was so pale; her normally golden skin was more of a light sandy tan and the harsh lights of the hospital seemed to bleach what little colour she had left, giving her a deathly pallor. Her hair, normally a rich dark brown, was dirty and matted with blood. Her face was heavily bruised and swollen and her clothes were tattered and patched with blood, two places in particular were wet with the dark red liquid. Tears rolled down Abby's cheeks. Ziva had always seemed so indestructible, so capable and strong. To see her see broken like this was agonising, and Abby closed her eyes, burrowing into Ducky's embrace. _I've spoken to her; she's fine now_, she told herself reassuringly, and she inhaled deeply to gather the strength to look at the other picture.

And she cried harder. Jenny looked dead, her skin was so pale; she looked almost exactly like one of the corpses that Ducky worked on all the time and her body was emaciated. It was like looking at a picture of one of the survivors from the World War 2 concentration camps. Her features were drawn, like she had given up on the waking world, and from the state of her body, Abby couldn't blame her. She was, like Ziva, covered in blood, but it was everywhere. There didn't seem to be a main source like Ziva's gunshot wounds, she simply had many long, thin slashes across the exposed parts of her body, and Abby could only assume that they extended under her rags.

Abby's throat ached from the force of her sobs and she felt a tissue being swiped gently under her nose and around her eyes. She reached up to still the hand, taking the tissue from it when it was offered, but not able to do anything with it at that moment. She knew that Ducky wouldn't think any less of her for being a blubbering mess, but the stray thought of what she must look like made her pull away from Ducky's embrace, away from those pictures, and she quietly dabbed at her eyes, the tissue coming away black.

She swallowed heavily, attempting to reign in her emotions, to calm herself down, and then dashed over to the sink closest to her, just in case the stirrings of nausea that the pictures had evoked became stronger. Ducky followed her, pulling another tissue from the box he had picked up off his desk and handing it wordlessly to her. She accepted it, feeling a little calmer.

"What happened to them?" she asked, her choked and watery voice breaking off at the end. Ducky contemplated not telling her, what good would it do to relay the horrors they had surely endured? In the end he decided that less was more; they could expand on what he said later if they so desired.

"They were held by a Hamas cell and tortured, I'm not sure of the specifics and I think I'd be doing them a disservice by divulging what I do know without permission. You can ask them if you want to, but... are you prepared to hear the answer?"

Abby then made the mistake of looking into his concerned and understanding eyes. Her composure crumbled and she broke into another round of desperate sobs, reaching out to him pitifully. Ducky stepped up and embraced her again, rubbing her back soothingly. Ziva had said she had been captured and tortured, but to see the aftermath like this...

"It's alright, Abby. _They_ are alright." He said to her but she couldn't believe it until she saw them for herself, held them in her arms. "You were so jubilant when you came down to see me, where did that cheerful girl go?" he asked softly, eliciting a short, shuddering laugh from her. She pulled away and wiped her face again, feeling a little drained. This emotional rollercoaster she was on was getting tiring. She finally noticed that the tissue was black and she groaned, knowing she had been wiping it all over her face.

"I'm a mess." She wined dramatically and Ducky chuckled softly.

"Yes, you are, but you're entitled to be. It isn't everyday that the people we love come back from the dead." He comforted her kindly, earning him a watery smile. He took the sodden tissue from her, threw it away and gave her a fresh one, pointing to her the nearest reflective surface. "You may as well wash your face now and reapply your makeup later. Just in case." He stage whispered to her, despite them being the only two people in the room. She nodded, agreeing with him; it didn't feel like she had finished shedding tears yet today. Just thinking about what they must have gone through made her eyes sting. She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush, walking swiftly to wash her face.

"Gibbs said he wants you to stay with me, just in case Vance tries to 'divide and conquer' us." She said, pausing what she was doing to see his reaction. His expression tightened and his gaze momentarily flickered to the roof. She sighed; he was holding something else back from her, why was she always in the dark?

"That's a good precaution." He said, trying hard to make his tone indifferent, but it was exactly that which made Abby even more suspicious. He didn't just know something she didn't; he knew something majorly important and possibly dangerous! She set her jaw and resolved to get to the bottom of this. She may be the most emotional member of the team, but she was still a part of it. When she got him in her lab the interrogation would begin.

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A.N.2: Next up is the MTAC scene for Best Intentions, the next chapter of Life Amongst the Dead and then another chapter of this. Thank you for your patience!


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I only own the story and any OC's.

A.N.: Thank you to Tempe4Booth, left my heart in Paris, EowynGoldberry, MMWillow 13, itzcheeseball, ladybugsmomma, NCIS She-Demon, MissJayne, RhizOneill, NightingaleTear, CriminalMindsWhore and Meian Kurayami for reviewing!

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Jenny was certain she was dead, and that certainty gave her comfort. She felt no fear of death; it was something she had looked forward to for a long time. It was _all she'd had_ to look forward to during the long days with nothing to occupy her thoughts but regrets, terror and loneliness. The constant pain she had lived with for the past year had finally subsided and she now knew a peace that she had never before experienced. Her physical body was frail and broken; damaged from mistreatment and neglect, and was in all probability beyond repair. It didn't matter now though; she no longer needed it.

She was free; she could feel it in every cell of her being, she could even taste it. Free from captivity, free from the torture, free from the negativity that had plagued her for so long, and finally free from the chains that held her fast to this life. No longer would she have to watch as her companions were dragged from their cell, there would be no more waking up in a cold sweat, screaming, her panic stricken voice part of a chorus of traumatised victims with no escape and no hope. No more hose downs with cold water when conditions in the cell became unliveable, even for them. After all she had suffered she finally had her reward.

Would she meet her deceased loved ones? Would she be sent to some sort of hell for taking Benoit's life? She didn't know, and frankly she was finding it difficult to imagine a worse place than the one she had just left behind. Anything was better than that.

Suddenly she realised she could feel gentle heat on her cheek. Jenny 'looked' around, but there was only nothingness. It was still there though so she hesitantly turned her face into the warmth and was rewarded with the feel of it soaking into her skin. _Sunlight,_ she thought. Back before her year of hell she had taken the sun's kiss on her skin for granted; now she desperately tried to soak up as much as she could, to fully experience the happiness that the simple 'touch' brought. All too soon though, the warmth began to get uncomfortably intense. She tried to move away but strangely it was all around her. Light began to filter through her eyelids and her heart sank; she was alive.

She was supposed to be dead, wasn't she? Why then did she feel so hot? So trapped? More importantly, why was she _feeling_ all of this at all? Her last waking moments had been so agonising that there was no possible way she was alive. She had left that life behind; she had let go. Hadn't she? She had nothing to hang around for; there was no unfinished business to tie her to this life. Everyone who knew her, who truly cared for her, believed her to be dead already.

No, that wasn't true. There was Ziva.

Her young idealistic Israeli friend was still there, waiting for her in that cold dark cell, trusting her to fulfil her unspoken promise to help with the escape. Her former partner had put all of her faith in Jenny's assistance and by trying to let go, to die, she was betraying her. She couldn't just leave her to attempt it on her own. Ziva needed her.

Needed her for what, though? Her body was next to useless; could she help Ziva to fight her way out? No. Would she have the strength to hold up one of the weaker women? Barely. She couldn't help Ziva now, or ever. She was simply a burden; a broken and bloody shadow of her former self. What could she realistically do to ensure her friend made it out alive?

Die.

Without her to worry about, Ziva's chances of escape were much higher. Just by not being in the cell she was providing the distraction that the women needed to slip out unseen. All she had to do was let go of whatever it was that was allowing her to still feel. She concentrated on just that; stopping every action that could be preserving her life, but she couldn't focus. Why was it so hot? She needed to get away from the heat but she was somehow confined. Was she still tied to the table? She shifted, trying to turn away from it but it just got worse. The heat was too much.

Noises met her ears; short, loud bangs and muffled voices. She instinctively flinched at every interruption to the silence that she had been floating in not long ago and then she tried to keep still, hoping that whoever was making the noise wouldn't notice her. A slim hope and she knew better than to cling to it. For now she settled with turning her head away from the light. It was a gargantuan effort but she finally met with success, her head burrowing into something soft. A blanket?

Familiar smells hit her but self preservation caused her to instantly suppress any knowledge that the recognition brought forth. Sanity was a difficult thing to safeguard, but she liked to believe she had succeeded. She couldn't let a soft blanket ruin that now. The only scent she allowed herself to identify was Ziva's, and that made her realise she was being held tightly. She was temporarily safe back in the cell with the women, then. She should have known. The heat must be a fever, that's why she couldn't escape it, she rationalised. Inexplicably tired she snuggled closer to Ziva and drifted off to sleep. It was just another day in hell.

* * *

Ziva carefully scanned the cliff faces on either side of the car as they passed swiftly between them, scrutinising them for traps or assassins. She knew the best places to hide, the most effective means of catching your target unawares in this kind of place. She wouldn't be taken by surprise again. She refused to give her fathers' operatives the upper hand without a fight. The morphine was making it difficult to concentrate, but she stubbornly refused to let her tired body rest for even a moment.

The car was in a sorry state, its windscreen was missing and all of the other windows had been shot out by the Mossad operatives that had ambushed them. It was riddled with bullet holes and wouldn't stand up to another fire fight like that last one, but it was still moving. They were nearly at the NCIS outpost and Agents Hilliard and Briars were waiting for them with backup. All they had to do was survive the trip.

McGee wasn't doing too well. Gibbs had told Tony to take a look at the younger mans leg, despite his protests, and they had quickly realised it was more serious than he had been letting on. With no morphine to keep the pain at bay, Tim was gritting his teeth and breathing hard in an attempt to control himself. Tony had made sure that the bullet had passed through and then bandaged his leg as carefully as he could, but Tim was losing blood.

She glanced at her arm, her newest wound was there; a bullet had grazed her, so it wasn't deep but it was painful. Tony had re-bandaged it for her not long ago, and although his movements had been measured and careful, he had still caused her pain. She had reacted badly. In that moment she had been back in that room, being beaten by the Hamas men. She had recoiled, but caught herself before she could instinctively retaliate. He'd definitely noticed, but he hadn't asked her questions; he'd just left it alone and finished tying the bandage. She was grateful for that. She hadn't and still didn't want to talk about it. Not yet at least.

She stared forwards out of the car, hoping to spot the ambush before they drove into it and she caught a brief sliver of light in the middle of the road ahead of them. It looked like it was in the air. She shot forward in her seat and gripped the back of the driver's chair urgently.

"Stop!" she shouted. Gibbs reacted instantly, flooring the break. They skidded to an abrupt halt amidst a cloud of sand and dust. Gibbs, Tony and McGee scanned their surroundings, wondering what Ziva had spotted, and then they saw it.

A long, thin wire was stretched across the road a few feet ahead of them. It was suspended about a meter above the road, at the perfect height to take the roof off a car - along with the occupants' upper torsos. If Ziva hadn't been with them, they would never have known what hit them. Gibbs' hand went to the gear stick, but Ziva put her hand on his arm, stopping him.

"No. It is useless. We are trapped." She said, staring out of the car. If only she wasn't on the morphine, she would have picked them out much sooner. She could see them now though; the operatives were strategically placed and almost indistinguishable from the rock. If they tried to reverse, the ones at near ground level would shoot, and these were the professionals; they wouldn't miss. If they went forwards and managed to drop under the wire then the roof would be taken off and they would be sitting ducks for the operatives above them, and that was only if they could build up enough momentum to get the wire through the car. They had no weapons; no ammo. There was only one option.

"Ziva, what are you doing?" Tony asked lowly, dragging his eyes away from the imminent danger to watch her as she undid her belt and propped Jenny up so she could get out of the car.

"I am going to speak with them." She replied, hoping that her guess was right.

"You're what?" he asked, obviously hoping that he had somehow misheard her.

"I am going to speak with them." She repeated, this time looking him dead in the eye. "This trap is a good one, but every Mossad officer knows to look for it. Whoever is out there held out the small hope that I would see it and stop in time."

"I thought you said all Mossad know to look-"

"They think my time at NCIS dulled my senses, weakened me. They were right." She replied, thinking back on her time in Tel Aviv, her father's displeasure, his disappointment in the deterioration of her skills and his disgust with her when she had made it obvious where she would rather be. Then being sent to Somalia to die.

"No, they weren't." He replied sincerely and she smiled slightly at his confidence in her, but he was wrong. She wasn't the woman she had been when she had first walked into his life; nor was she the woman who had made Gibbs choose between the two of them. She was damaged now, and her strong facade would only last so long. She laid Jenny back down on the seat as she stepped out of the car and then she looked her teammates in the eye.

"If this goes fruit shaped-"

"Pear shaped." Tony corrected her. She didn't say anything else; she just looked at them, hoping that everything she couldn't say out loud was conveyed in her gaze. Her friends held her gaze, returning the sentiment. She smiled and then straightened up, taking a deep breath. She rounded the car slowly, using the metal body of the vehicle for support.

It took her a few moments to limp over to the wire and she patiently waited for the operative in charge to come forward, taking comfort in the fact that they hadn't killed her yet. She was no longer in any type of cover; if they had made a mistake by using such an obvious trap they would have rectified it by now. She swallowed hard to calm her churning stomach; exhaustion and thirst had taken their toll on her, and the heat from the sun beat down unrelentingly but she forced herself to stay standing and alert.

Finally movement caught her eye and she had to blink to clear her vision. A figure stepped around a boulder at the side of the road just a few yards ahead of her. Ziva faced the figure, a woman, and watched as she swiftly approached. She was armed, and her weapon never wavered from her target; Ziva's heart.

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A.N.: Next up will be Best Intentions.


End file.
